


so at ease in the midnight sky

by aarobron



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Character Death, Emmerdale Big Bang Round 2, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarobron/pseuds/aarobron
Summary: aaron finds the dingle's travelling circus at 16, just after he runs away from gordon, and spends his days helping out with odd jobs. what he doesn't expect to find is a best friend in the shape of vic's older brother, robert. they grow closer, as a double act on the trapeze and as friends, but he keeps his feelings quiet until gordon shows up and flips everything they know upside down.or,The silence used to remind him of Jackson. Actually, scratch that – it used to remind him of Jackson’s accident, but that’s all the man had turned into, in the end. If he stood here long enough, before, all he could hear was the sound of Jackson’s scream, bones cracking and crunching, and his pained sobs.That was before Robert, though; before Robert came into his life and turned everything he knew inside out and upside down. Now, in the chapter of his life he’s come to think of as after Robert, he stands in the silence of the big top and all he hears is laughter echoing around him.





	so at ease in the midnight sky

**Author's Note:**

> so, she’s here. between finishing uni and spending the last few weeks awfully ill, i have finally finished my big bang. i’ve never been prouder of anything i’ve written like i am this, and i’m so excited to release my baby into the world. please take good care of her! 
> 
> i have to thank everyone who has encouraged me, supported me, and screamed at me about this fic. i love you all, and i dedicate it to you – especially my amazing, wonderful artist [whatdiknow](https://whatdiknow.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> i hope you all like this, and i hope you’ll all agree that [marj's art](https://whatdiknow.tumblr.com/tagged/my+big+bang+art) is the most perfect compliment to this fic. so, without further ado, i present to you my big bang!
> 
> please note: the gordon storyline is a heavy part of this fic, towards the end. this includes several appearances from gordon himself, the abuse reveal, and the trial etc etc, so please be aware! and also jackson's accident, somewhere in the middle.

There’s something so peaceful about the big top like this. Empty and alone, the only sound is his breathing, but the fabric walls of the tent absorb it as soon as it hits the air. You can’t hear the bustle of people outside, chatting and laughing and shouting. You can’t see anyone, either, and that’s what makes this place a safe haven. 

The silence used to remind him of Jackson. Actually, scratch that – it used to remind him of Jackson’s accident, but that’s all the man had turned into, in the end. If he stood here long enough, _before_ , all he could hear was the sound of Jackson’s scream, bones cracking and crunching, and his pained sobs.

That was before Robert, though; before Robert came into his life and turned everything he knew inside out and upside down. Now, in the chapter of his life he’s come to think of as after Robert, he stands in the silence of the big top and all he hears is laughter echoing around him.

The walls tell a different story, these days: the times Robert would crack joke after joke until Aaron was finally starting to feel like himself again. The times Robert’s calloused fingers and rough palms would hold on tight to Aaron’s ankles or wrists, suspending him in mid-air but keeping him safe all the same. The times he’d just sit silently, side by side with Aaron, on the edge of the stage.

The times when he had waited patiently until Aaron had turned to him for a hug, and then told him that everything was going to be okay. 

Aaron’s smiling just thinking about it. A quirk of his lips without his permission, without his own brain telling his own mouth to move. He touches his lips briefly, then forces it away. How ridiculous. Robert is his best friend – nothing more, nothing less. Anything else, and it would ruin the trust between them. It would ruin the routine. 

Robert chooses that exact moment to breeze through the doors of the oversized tent, a self satisfied smirk on his face. He looks like the cat that got the cream; all lazy eyes and effortless steps.

“Where did you get to, then?” Aaron asks, turning his back to the older man and swiping powdery chalk across his palms. He wants to seem unaffected, but truth be told, he was worried sick by the sight of an empty bed and still air. “You didn’t come back last night.” 

“Did you miss me?” Robert asks mildly, amusement dripping from his every word. Aaron bites back the denial on the tip of his tongue, because that’d only lead to more ribbing - and maybe a little suspicion. He doesn’t want that; Robert knowing that Aaron can’t sleep without him in the bed opposite, within touching distance. That Aaron doesn’t feel safe if Robert isn’t there. “I met someone.” 

“Who was it?” Aaron says. He still doesn’t turn around, instead reaching up to the lowest hanging trapeze bar and adjusting his grip. This, at least, makes it all seem natural, because they’re constantly having conversations in all sorts of positions. For the first time ever, Aaron finds that he kind of appreciates it. 

“Her name’s Chrissie,” Robert says. He stays silent for a minute, but it’s not awkward – it never could be, with them. Still, he can hear the older man’s palms rubbing together, and he tenses his muscles to take Robert’s weight as he jumps up to swing next to him. “She was here last night, with her son?” 

Aaron frowns, deadly still whilst Robert sways, gaining momentum around the bar. “You didn’t- Not while her _son_ was there?” He says, tone disbelieving.

“Of course I didn’t!” Robert snaps, jumping up two bars as if to prove a point. He glowers down at Aaron, but he doesn’t know, does he? The stories he’s heard about Robert border on the line of vulgar, possibly illegal. “Her dad came and picked him up!” 

“Alright…” Aaron says slowly. He pulls himself up to sit next to Robert, watching the older man’s face carefully. He doesn’t know how Robert does that: manages to pick faces out of the crowd every other night, and then charm them into bed after. It was a shock, when Robert had whispered that he liked to charm the boys, too. “Are you gonna see her again?” 

Robert makes a show of thinking about it, but there’s a lazy, smug grin spreading across his face. It tells Aaron everything he needs to know, and he mentally starts to prepare himself for a lot of lonely nights in the future.

“More than likely, yeah,” Robert says, snapping the older man out of his thoughts. Aaron shakes his head and swings down and round the top of the bar, gaining momentum until he’s certain that Robert can’t see the blush on his cheeks.

Because that’d never do. Robert doesn’t need to know anything.

“Not a problem, is it?” He asks when Aaron’s slowed down and pulled himself to sit, legs hanging each side of the bar. The older man watches him carefully – curiously, even.

Aaron raises an eyebrow, schools his face into a neutral expression. "'Course not," he says, bringing one knee up to his chest and resting his back against the rope. It's rubbing against his skin through his t-shirt, slightly uncomfortable and bound to leave a red, raw mark, but it's better than what he usually does when panic is restricting his throat. "Just don't let it fuck with the routine, yeah? We still need to practice."

"Don't worry, babe," Robert sing-songs softly, eyes glinting mischievously. His palm covers the bare skin of Aaron's ankle, touch burning hot. He edges forward and then drops, long legs stretched beneath him, toes pointed. He grips Aaron's legs, and hangs there with perfect strength. "You're still my number one."

A teasing smile curls his perfectly pink lips up at the corners. The sound of The Killers from their routine playlist filters through the heavy stacked speakers underneath them. People bustle around outside the tent, chatting and going about their days.

And Aaron pushes the blackened feelings out of his lungs and throat, and tries to remember what it feels like to be alive.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron joins the circus when he’s fifteen. It’s not like he _wants_ to, it’s just- it’s just Gordon, and that anger that seems to roll off his father like waves, and the unrelenting fear of what he knows is going to happen.

So he runs.

The Dingles Travelling Circus. They’re not hard to find – posters everywhere, plastered in shop windows and bus stops and on railings. What town they’re in, where they’re going next. Dates and dates and dates, white text on black, and Aaron stares at them until it’s all memorised and his eyes are watering.

Anything has to be better than Gordon, he decides, even if that means a mother who doesn’t care and a family he doesn’t know. A mix of people, dozens of them, doing the weirdest things and having the strangest skills. Like the films he watched as a kid – after Chas had left and before Gordon… well. 

So he finds them, and he joins them, and Zak makes him do the most menial jobs: cleaning out the animals’ pens and picking up plastic cups after the crowds leave. He doesn’t know how to do anything else, and he doesn’t want to learn. But even _this_ is better than Gordon.

And his mum, god, his mum. She isn’t great and he knows that, and she knows that, but they still try. It’s rocky, at first, because he resents her. God knows he shouldn’t, but there’s something dangerously easy about lashing out at Chas. Because she lets him. Because she takes it.

Why didn’t you see it? Why didn’t you care enough to see it?

He won’t say this, of course. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t – the words are stuck to the back of his throat like chewing gum under a desk, hardened and solid, making it hard to breathe.

Nobody notices because they don’t know him, but that’s the easiest part of it all. 

It’s Zak who confronts him first, with a frown and a twitching upper lip. “Aaron, son,” he says, all hard voice and steeled eyes. He’s looming and a little terrifying, but Aaron’s never going to admit that. “You need to buck your ideas up.”

“Don’t know what you mean,” he says arrogantly, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. Act big, look big. They can’t hurt you that way. _He_ can’t hurt you.

“I mean exactly like that!” Zak’s voice is raised now, booming across the field. Some of the lesser Dingles – Sam and Eli – are looking over their way, completely obvious in their staring. Some of the non-Dingles are being subtle about it, little glances from the corner of their eyes, but Aaron sees it all. “You’re going to start treating us with some respect, or you’ll go back exactly where you came from!”

The fear of the possibility strokes up his spine like a cold finger, and he finds himself frozen to the spot, can’t breathe can’t move can’t blink can’t speak can’t can’t can’t- until he forces out air that hurts his lungs and nods, says, “Of course, sir,” all shaky.

Zak frowns, as if he can sense it, for one second and then another, but he finally nods and his face relaxes. “That’s more like it,” he says, and his words are brimming with praise. “Now, go feed the horses.”

Aaron feeds the horses purely because he’s terrified of the alternative.

.

Aaron likes the horses. He likes all the animals, really, even if he does refuse to go near Leo – you don't fuck about with lions, and even Aaron’s not that ballsy – but he likes watching him from afar. Likes watching him prowl in his pen, lay down and have a nap, blinking one eye lazily when he notices Aaron sitting nearby.

But the horses, the horses. Feeding them is the best part of his day. He sits with them, back to a makeshift fence, and sometimes he'll bring a notebook. Sometimes, he'll try and pick apart his own thoughts. He only started doing that after- well. After _that_.

He uses pins and razors and anything else with a sharp enough edge to try and unravel his mind. He comes up short, mostly, with no further insight but blood splattered all over the walls like collateral damage, and then he thinks, next time he should use something a little more blunt. You know, to minimise the damage. 

But a butter knife can still stab someone if you put enough force behind it.

He shakes his head, tries to clear the fog that’s settled over his brain. It does no good thinking about that, so he pushes through it and slices an apple, smiling as the horses make interested noises and stare at him curiously.

Misty likes him the most, and really, the feeling’s mutual. She’s soft, is Misty, affectionate and caring. He’d said that to Paddy once, expecting him to get it, but the older man just stared at him bewildered and muttered something about horses being the devil reincarnate. But that’s not Misty - it never could be. She nuzzles against his shoulder when there's tears streaming down his face, hot puffs of breath on his neck when his stomach is rolling with nausea and he keeps retching every five seconds.

He apologises to her more often than not, choking out, "I'm so sorry," while there's blood seeping through the sleeves of his hoodie. He wishes this wasn’t his go to place, but he’s only ever found the slightest semblance of privacy in the makeshift barn. It’s always quiet, filled with the rich scent of hay, because that’s Aaron’s job, isn’t it? He’s a stablehand, really. Nothing more, nothing less. He’s not exactly a valued member of the circus.

It happens again, today. He'd woken up with sweat covering his cold skin, gasping for air and trying to fight his way out of another nightmare. Gordon was everywhere, in his mind and behind his eyelids, with that sick fucking grin and the smell of whisky on his breath.

Aaron couldn’t escape, still can’t. Every time he turns around, he can see the flash of a shadow there, but it’s _not real_. He knows it isn’t, knows that his exhaustion is playing tricks on him, but it’s been weeks now, probably even months, hasn’t it? It’s been ages since he ran away and Gordon must know where he is. But maybe, hopefully, he’s not even looking for him.

The thought settles Aaron’s stomach a little bit.

He finds himself in the barn again, back pressed against a hay bale, knuckles digging into his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry, because that feels like Gordon’s _won_ , but he doesn’t know how else to push the pain away. 

Well. He knows one way.

Turning his back on the horses, he braces himself, hands against the floor. The grass is damp under his knees and unforgiving against his skin, but he can’t think about that. Instead, he presses his arm awkwardly to his chest, blood making his hoodie sticky, and breathes through the panic attack that he knows is coming.

When he’s regained his composure, _inoutinoutinout_ , he glances up, and sees Misty in front of him. She’s towering over him at this height, but she’s not imposing. Aaron’s not scared. A little comforted, more than anything. Still, he apologises tearfully, and reaches out to stroke a shaky hand down her leg.

Misty just looks at him with her big doe eyes, like she understands, like she's saying _it's okay_. But she turns and leaves, trots right out the field, and Aaron's alone, disappointed. Yes, disappointed, but he can barely feel it through the searing feeling of inevitable acceptance.

Because everyone leaves, don't they? Chas started the pattern, and Aaron doesn't think it's ever going to end.

And she wouldn’t have bothered to find him, either. She’s his fucking mother. She gave him life, but despite that, he knows, even if he tries not to think about it, that she wouldn’t even care enough. She wouldn’t have saved him… not if he didn’t make the first move.

But here he is. The first move has been made, and she still couldn’t care less. She barely speaks to him, and that’s on a good day. What kind of a mother does that make her?

What kind of a son does that make _him_? That both of his parents-

Misty trots back through the doors of the makeshift barn, neighing at him gently, shaking him out of his thoughts. But she’s not alone this time – no, Victoria Sugden’s following her. He doesn’t know Vic well, not really, but they talk and she seems nice, even if half the Dingles think she’s trouble.

“What are you doing?” he asks through gritted teeth, trying to get his voice sound furious instead of pain. He doesn’t think it works. He presses his arm against his side to hide the smeared red on his hoodie sleeve, closing his eyes. Vic’s a kid, she’s a fucking _child_. She doesn’t need to see this, and she doesn’t understand. She could never understand. “Are you following me?”

Vic smiles at him, a sad little thing that Aaron would take as pity from anyone else. From her, though, it just seems shocked, like she doesn’t quite know what else to do. “Misty wouldn’t leave me alone until I followed her here,” she says gently, kneeling in front of him and reaching a hand out towards him. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing, Vic,” he says, twisting his body away from her touch. He wishes it was nothing, but now that he has company, the pain in his arm is unavoidable. It’s not a release anymore, and he can’t focus on anything else. “Please, just go. Just leave-“

“Aaron!” Victoria snaps, startling him into silence. He forgot how fierce she is, for such a small girl. She doesn’t grab him, doesn’t touch him even gently, and he’s so grateful. “Stop pretending you’re alright. What happened to your arm?”

He wipes his cheeks roughly with his uninjured arm, but the tears keep falling. It feels like they’re never going to stop. “Don’t tell anyone, please,” he begs, but he pulls his sleeve up anyway. If Vic’s disgusted, she doesn’t show it, just breathes out slowly. “I can’t-”

“It’s alright, Aaron,” Vic says softly, taking his hand and unscrewing the bottle of water she’s been clutching. She watches him carefully, mouth a straight line and eyes welcoming. She’s mature, Vic, for her age. Aaron imagines that’s what happens when both of your parents are dead before your sixteenth birthday. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”

Something sick settles in Aaron’s stomach, because he almost _wishes_ both his parents are dead. He shouldn’t be thinking that – not about his mum, anyway; his dad is fair game – but Vic doesn’t notice anything, just gently rolls his sleeve up and sets about washing the blood away with a clean cloth soaked in water.

Aaron breathes out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding, and sags his weight against her.

  


  


  


  


  


  


It’s busy tonight; people are milling around the entertainment village they’ve set up, chatting and eating and spending money. Marlon looks flustered behind the barbecue stand, throwing sausages and burgers onto the grill one after the other.

Vic looks fine, though. She’s taking money and handing over paper plates with a smile on her face, makeup still intact. She catches him looking and throws a grin at him, gesturing with her head.

Aaron raises his eyebrows. Being in the village is a nightmare, even on their dead nights, so with a crowd like this? He thinks he’d rather do _anything_ else. He backs up quickly before Vic can grab him, hurried steps without looking behind him, to where he’s going.

“Aaron!” Robert snaps, hands coming up to curl around the younger man’s biceps when they collide chest to back. He sounds a little flustered, tripping over his words as they leave his mouth.

It's so unlike him that Aaron spins around curiously.

"Sorry," Robert breathes, squeezing Aaron's arms once before he drops his hands. His cheeks are flushed, skin pink and a little shiny, like he's stressed or nervous or worried. But Robert Sugden doesn't feel _any_ of those three things. Never has in front of Aaron, anyway. "It's just-"

Robert cuts himself off, eyes wide as he takes in all the faces killing around them. "Hey," Aaron says, softening his voice and curling his palm around the older man's elbow. That's the best way to get Robert to open up, he's found - but it took him a while to learn. "What's up?"

"Chrissie's here tonight," Robert says. He's smiling, but it's strained - maybe a little pained - and his eyes dart from side to side, slightly panicked. "She's bringing her family.”

“So?” Aaron says, raising an eyebrow at Robert. That doesn’t seem something to panic over – unless, of course, Robert’s gone and fucked it all up already and Chrissie’s family are out for blood. Honestly, given Robert’s track record, that seems more plausible. “I thought you two were good?” 

“Can you really call two weeks _good_?” Robert asks, grimace turning his mouth down at the corners. He gets lost in his own head for a second, eyes glazing over, but then he snaps out of it and stares directly at Aaron. “Her dad is rich and powerful. What if he doesn’t like me? What if her _son_ doesn’t? He could probably make me disappear!” 

Aaron rolls his eyes, flattening his palms against Robert’s chest to start shoving him backwards. The older man takes stumbling steps, gaze still flitting, before they settle on Aaron with a confused expression.

“What are you up to?” He asks, frowning as Aaron comes to a standstill. He seems to realise where they are, though, and sags against the trailer, back against the cool metal. This caravan, it’s the closest they’ve both felt to a home, the place they feel most comfortable. Aaron can’t count how many pep talks have happened against this van.

“You need to calm down,” Aaron says, sitting on the pile of plastic garden chairs that someone’s shoved in the corner. He watches Robert carefully, eyes his face and then his chest as his heaving breaths ease into a regular pattern. “You’re never usually like this. What’s changed?” 

“The others didn’t follow this fucking circus around every night just to see me,” Robert says, eyes flashing dark. He tucks his hands under his armpits, hands crossed across his chest, and from the low light, Aaron can see goosebumps scattered over his skin. It’s a cool night, but they’re both in t-shirts; they entire circus is used to the weather now, unaffected when the temperature drops below fifteen. “I don’t- I don’t know, Aaron. This is the most serious _anything_ since Katie. And we know how that ended, don’t we? What if I’ve forgotten?” 

“Can you really call two weeks serious?” Aaron repeats, musing out loud. He shrinks away from the dirty look Robert shoots his way, holding his hands up in defeat, and then sighs. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that it’s only been two weeks. Neither of you know where it’s going to go just yet, so just… Be yourself. Take it at your pace, but don’t, like, propose to her or anything.” 

“And what do I do tonight?” Robert asks uncertainly, chewing on his lower lip. Aaron wants to put his thumb there, smooth away the red marks, but he slips his hands between his thighs instead, before he does something stupid. 

“You do what Robert Sugden does best,” Aaron says. He smiles, watches his best friend’s posture loosen, shoulders finally relaxing. “You go out and find them, then you charm them and flirt your way through the evening, and _then_ you impress them with your top trapeze skills.”

“Thank you,” Robert says, lips quirking up into a small smile. He takes Aaron’s hand and pulls him up off the chair, then into a hug. Aaron curls his fingers into the older man’s t-shirt and breathes in the smoky scent of the aftershave he uses, and slots himself back into the place he sees as home. “You always know exactly what to say.” 

Aaron just grins, bites back the _it’s because I know you more than anyone_ that’s begging to slip off his tongue, but keeps his hands where they are, hot on the middle of Robert’s back.

“Come on, let’s go find them,” he says, a firm palm leading Robert back into the rush of people outside the big top. It smells like burgers, like fried onions and ketchup, and beer, and Aaron finds himself relaxing as he gets ends up back in the middle of it. This is the one place where Aaron’s ever truly felt happy, even if he still doesn’t know how to handle the crowds.

“You been stealing my brother again?” Vic asks. She glances up as she flips a burger, eyes sparkling bright. She was the only one that truly supported their friendship, because everyone else thought they would be bad influences on each other and become complete nightmares. A terrible twosome, Zak had once said. 

But not Victoria. Somehow, she knew that they’d become the best of friends and cancel each other out. She knows things like this pretty well, Aaron’s come to find.

“Don’t think it’s me you need to worry about,” Aaron says. He can tell the very second that Robert spots Chrissie and her family, because his spine stiffens under Aaron’s hand for a moment and then relaxes, a charming grin in place as he heads over to them.

They stand there for a minute, then another. The only sounds between them are the scraping of Vic’s spatula against the grill and meat sizzling, watching the way Robert stands in front of his girlfriend (Aaron thinks, anyway. Could be anything, knowing Robert, but he tries not to dwell on the thought too much).

They watch as he greets Chrissie with a kiss on the cheek, then shakes her dad’s hand and bend down to do the same to her son. Chrissie laughs, clearly smitten, and Robert seems no better. It’s a picture perfect family scene, exactly what Aaron thought Robert wasn’t. He thought they were the _same_.

It makes him feel sick, the realisation.

He turns his back and pokes Vic’s shoulder, more to be annoying than anything, and grins at her when she turns to him with a hand on her hip.

“Can you do me a burger?” He asks hopefully, slinging an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her close. He knows she would anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to butter her up a little. “A fresh one. Not that shite that’s been sitting on the grill all night.” 

“Cheeky sod!” Vic cries, throwing her hand out and hitting him in the stomach gently. Still, she digs in the freezer for a fresh burger and slices a bun in half. “Do you want the normal?”

“Yeah,” Aaron confirms, glancing back over his shoulder. Robert’s gone now, an empty space where he once stood with Chrissie and her family, and a crushing feeling shoots through Aaron’s chest. “You know what I like.”

She does. She knows him almost as well as Robert does, but still.

She doesn’t even know the half of it.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Victoria sicks to his side like glue.

Everyone notices, because how could they not? She's next to him all the time - when they're eating tea, while he's cleaning the stables even though she should be practising her dancing or watching Marlon cook (and learning). At night, when he can't stop his fingers from shaking and the tears keep coming, and he wants to find the closest sharp object and make it all stop. Especially then.

Chas even sits him down one night, after the circus has closed and the rest of the crew are packing away. He should be helping, but his mum had grabbed him with some force and frogmarched him back to her trailer.

He hisses against her grip, because her fingertips are digging into the fresh wounds on his arm. If she notices, she doesn’t stop – just keeps dragging him, away from the horse boxes to her trailer on the other side of the field. Vic catches his eyes, looks like she’s about to say something, but Aaron shakes his head in a tiny movement and she takes a small step back.

"Aaron, I think it's time we have a chat, don't you?" Chas says, a glint in her eye that tells him she's enjoying this way too much. Her first proper bout of mothering, he supposes. It must be a little exciting. She puts a cup of tea in front of him and then sits opposite, fingers curled around her own mug.

A pit of dread opens in his stomach. Maybe she's seen the scars, or maybe, just maybe, she's managed to figure out _why_ he's acting like this. He prays it's the latter, because she should know, shouldn’t she? She should be able to notice these things. Aaron thinks it’s called motherly instinct, but he wouldn’t know – he’s never quite been on the receiving end of it.

"You and Victoria Sugden seem to be getting close," she says. There's a smirk on her face, but it's hardened like she's hiding something, and that cannot be something positive. Not from a Dingle, at any rate. "I wouldn't let you near the little madam if it was down to me, but-"

"It's not up to you," he says, revelling in the outraged look she shoots his way for the interruption. It's almost worth the whole chat, but he regrets it as soon as he says it. He’ll definitely be getting a bollocking now.

"I _know_ that!" She snaps, taking a deep breath and composing herself. That’s more like it – the mother he knows: would rather shout than actually sit down and talk to her son. She takes his hand before he can snatch it away, gripping onto his fingers like a lifeline. "And that's why I'm saying... You just need to be safe."

Aaron falters, head snapping up to stare at her in disbelief. “You _what_?” He says, watching her face transform into a disgraced frown. And so she should be, feeling disgraced, because: “There’s nothing going on between me and Vic!”

Truth be told, they’d kissed once – late at night, on one of the rare times when Aaron’s skin didn’t feel tight and itchy. No, he’d felt all right, actually, free from the nightmares and shadows that crept around him in the dark, and he’d nicked a few cans from Uncle Zak’s trailer. They had a decent buzz going between them, talking about anything and everything, and then they’d both fallen silent, gazes caught.

And so, he’d kissed Victoria. Or, she kissed him. He isn’t entire sure how it happened, just that it had, and it had felt a little weird. Maybe it felt weird, or maybe that’s how all kisses feel. Aaron wouldn’t know. He hasn’t had much experience.

Vic had agreed, though. She’d said it was like kissing her brother, and Aaron pulled a face and said, _which one? Andy?_ They’d forgotten about it, through mutual agreement, and. Well, that’s that. No need to bring it up again. 

And _that_ is why he doesn’t need his mother sticking her massive nose in.

“Well, actually,” Aaron muses, making a show of looking up to the ceiling. He can still feel Chas’ gaze trained on him, the prickles of it stabbing his skin, but he can have some fun, can’t he? “It’s just sex, you see. A release. Nothing to worry about, because it’s purely physical.”

He’s up out of his seat before Chas can grab at him, but he can hear her shriek of, “Aaron!” as he dances out of the trailer to the rest of the circus staring. Vic meets his eyes, hiding laughter behind her hand, and he grins at her, beckoning her to follow him to the horses again.

Well. He has to find at least one way to enjoy himself, doesn’t he?

.

Speaking of Vic – he’s only seen her once today, at breakfast, when she’d crowded into his trailer and they ate together, elbows knocking at the tiny table. She asked him if he wanted to take a walk into the nearest town, but Zak had boomed for him to feed the horses, so he had no other choice.

He stayed long enough to watch her skip up the road, headphones shoved into her ears and blaring Little Mix, and only felt _slightly_ bitter that she had some time free before the show while he was stuck shovelling horse shit.

Not that he minds, of course – if knows that if he doesn’t do it, he’ll be forced to go back exactly where he came from. And that would never do. But still, Victoria’s probably going to get a McDonald’s or something, and she never brings one back for him. Which, frankly, is a little rude.

Considering the fact he puts up with her.

(Who is he kidding? He loves spending time with Vic).

Chas follows him to the stables, somehow managing to walk on the grass with her heels. Aaron doesn’t really understand it, but he supposes she’s been here long enough. After all, she was never with _him_ , was she?

“So…” She says, tone awkward. She sounds like she’d rather be anywhere else, and honestly, Aaron agrees wholeheartedly. The worst part about joining this circus is that he can’t get away from his mother when he wants (needs) to. “We should probably talk about yesterday.”

"What about it?" Aaron asks, petting Misty on the head when she approaches him. She seems to know, today, that he's feeling better, and glances at him once more before trotting back over to the other horses.

"I'm obviously talking about you and Vic," Chas snaps, sitting on one of the hay bales. Her gaze is burning into his back, uncomfortable enough that he can't ignore, but he still doesn't look at her. "I need to know that you're being safe, Aaron." 

"Me and Vic?" He asks, frowning. He carries on around the stables, feeding the horses one by one and petting them when they headbutt him gently. Honestly, he's glad Uncle Zak put him in charge here. It gives him focus - not to mention somewhere to hide when it all gets too much. "There's nothing going on between me and Vic."

"But- what you told me yesterday!" She splutters, like she doesn't know what to say. He can see her out of the corner of his eye, red faced and flustered. "You said you were..."

Chas trails off like she doesn't want to say the word, doesn't want to confirm what she thinks they've been up to. No use in trying to be a mother now, Aaron thinks. Where was she the past eight years? 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, finally turning. He leans back against a hay bale and folds his arms over his chest, wrinkling his nose. "Like I said, me and Vic are friends. Nothing more."

"God!" Chas exclaims, breathing out harshly through her nose. She throws her hands into their air and then lets them fall back down to her sides, fingers curling into fists. "I do not know what to do with you, Aaron Livesy. There's no talking to you!" 

"That's because you never try!" Aaron yells, trying not to look too closely at her retreating back. Walking away, leaving... doesn't even bother her when Aaron's right _there_. "Fuck!"

He turns and kicks at a hay bale, again and again and again until there's a dent in it, bits of straw flying everywhere and the air feels dusty. He only draws to a stop when he can feel big, fat ugly tears rolling down his cheeks, wiping the sleeve of his hoodie across his face roughly.

It's not like he wants Chas to keep walking away. He wants her to stay, to wrap him up in her arms and tell him everything is going to be okay, to be the mum she's supposed to be. But he doesn't know how to be the son he's supposed to be. He takes it out on her, all of it - why can't she see these blackened thoughts in his mind? Why can't she hear the thick tar clogging up his lungs until he can't breathe?

So he just pushes her away. Holds her at arms length and then shoves her even further back when she inches past his fingertips. He doesn't know the right words to say to her, and it disappoints them both. Taints their relationship until he's on his own, cross-legged in a muddy field with just a few horses for company.

And it's not just Chas, either. Every single one of the Dingles (and associated acts) looks down at him like he's scum, like he's just a gobby kid not worth their time.

He doesn't belong here. The one place where he truly thought he could, thought he _could_... The one place he'd be surrounded by family and the unconditional, unwavering love that everyone talks about. He finally thought he'd get to experience that.

He should know by now that if something seems too good to be true, it usually is.

So, that's that then. It's settled.

The circus isn't his home, and he can't keep pretending it is. It's hollow in the middle, anyway; empty where he should feel fond. 

He needs to go. Get out of here. To find Vic and say goodbye, to feed Misty one last time.

He's leaving, and he's not coming back.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron wipes his face on his dirty t-shirt, shivering in the cool night air. The stars are sparkling above him, because they always stay far enough away from the nearest town that the lights don't affect the view. It's one of Aaron's favourite things about travelling with the circus.

However, washing out of a bucket in less than chilly evenings is one of the worst things about it. He forgot his fucking towel again, and he knows he'll be greeted with Robert's _i told you so_ smirk. 

He shivers, goosebumps scattering across his skin as he takes hurried steps back to the trailer. The t-shirt is still clutched to his chest at a half arsed attempt at dignity. It doesn't really matter; everyone in this circus has seen his scars - they're all one big family, after all - but he doesn't exactly want to show them off. There could still be a few teenage girls hanging around, hoping for a bit of _something more_ from one of them. God knows it's happened before. 

The door slams behind him, and Robert looks up with a smile spreading across his face. "Need a towel?" He asks, pulling it from the back of the sofa he's laying across. He chucks it in the direction of Aaron's face, but the younger man catches it with a scowl.

"Not a word," he mutters, dropping his t-shirt into the laundry basket beside him. He dries his chest and arms quickly, before scrubbing the towel through his hair. "Can I borrow a pair of trackies? Mine got wet." 

Robert's gaze tracks down his bare chest, over his stomach and then lower, to the damp patches on the thighs of his joggers. He tries not to let it get him, to will away the flush that's rising to his skin, but then the moment is over and Robert is digging through his pile of neatly folded clothes. 

"You okay?" He asks as he hands over the trackies. His fingers brush over Aaron's wrist for a moment longer than strictly necessary, a sure sign of his concern. "You seemed a little tense tonight."

"Not sleeping well," Aaron admits, stripping his damp clothes and pulling Robert's clothes on. He scratches at his chest absently and meets the older man's gaze. "Do you ever get like, an impending sense of doom?"

"You what?" Robert asks after the silence stretches on for too long. He bursts out into laughter, not unkind in the slightest, but Aaron still blushes furiously red. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll be fine."

He gets an arm around Aaron's neck, more of a hug than a headlock. It's gentle, his grip, but Aaron puts his palms on the older man's stomach as a show of shoving him off anyway.

"Should probably do a laundry run tomorrow," Aaron says absently. Robert drags them back to the sofa and pulls them down until they’re laying flat, a mess of limbs, all over each other. Aaron doesn’t know where he ends and Robert begins, but he doesn’t mind all that much. "You coming?"

"Hmm?" Robert says, staring up at the ceiling. He's clearly lost in his own head again, living in a dream world. Once, he told Aaron that his dad hated him doing it, so he fought the urge and stopped - that is, until he joined the circus. "Only if we're back about an hour before the show."

Aaron pulls a face, pressing his head further down where it’s resting on Robert’s stomach. “Why? Got a hot date?” He asks, teasing, and then almost physically recoils when he realises how close to the truth he is. 

“Yes, actually,” Robert says. He sounds smug, but almost hesitant with it, like Aaron will care. He keeps telling himself he doesn’t – after Jackson, he’s decided that he’s better off alone. He’s got all the family he needs right here, and Robert’s ego is more than enough to keep him company. “Chrissie’s coming, _without_ the family this time.” 

“Oh yeah?” Aaron asks, glancing up at Robert’s face. He looks kind of weird upside down, he’s decided, but he’s not blushing like Aaron expects. Usually, when he’s really into someone, he’s as red as a tomato the second he mentions their name. “Wine and dine? Or is it more shag and bag?” 

Robert snorts, threading his fingers through Aaron’s curls and tugging gently to shut him up. “She’s booked us in to that hotel in town, The Manor House?” He says. Aaron tilts his head back and finds Robert smirking, eyes glittering. He’s always liked the finer things in life, but that’s never really fit in with the whole being in a circus thing – they live light and travel even lighter, and find their own entertainment. “Don’t worry mate, I’ll nick the posh soaps for you.” 

"Last of the big spenders," Aaron huffs, smacking Robert's knee lightly. He wonders if that's still him, sometimes: actual bricks and mortar to call home, a steady place to come home to at the end of the day. He lowers his voice, tone serious. "I'm glad you're happy." 

"Me too," Robert says with a sly smile, and it's then that Aaron realises home is right here, exactly where he is.

 _Robert_ is home.

  


  


  


  


  


  


“Aaron!” Victoria yells across the open field, voice carrying between trees and trailers. She’s unbelievably loud, for a girl that’s barely five foot tall. Aaron winces against the sound, and wipes his cheeks even though he’d cried himself dry hours ago. 

“What, Vic?” He sighs, trailing a hand along Misty’s back as he leaves the barn. The horse huffs in response, not happy with being abandoned after he’s spent so much time sat with her. “Are you ever quiet?” 

“Nope!” She says with a grin, popping the p. Her eyes are a wild kind of glittering, darting from side to side in a way that only happens when she’s too buzzing to sit still. “I have someone you need to meet!” 

Aaron hopes it’s not a boyfriend; he doesn’t have the time to give someone the third degree. She grabs his wrist and drags them back to the main circle of camp, not glancing back behind her once. It’s that lazy kind of mid afternoon, where everyone’s practicing or napping before the show, so it’s quiet. Suspiciously so, he thinks. Like the calm before the shit storm of whoever Vic has dragged back into the madness with her. 

“He said he might be staying here a while, so you’ve got to be nice to him, alright?” She says, patient but still somehow demanding. She looks at Aaron seriously, finding his gaze and keeping it steady. “Promise?” 

“Vic, I don’t even know who it is yet,” Aaron huffs, trying to drag his feet. He’s in the worst of fucking moods already, meeting some _random_ that Vic’s dragged back is the last thing he wants to do. “He could be an arsehole.”

Victoria stops, deadly still, and turns to face him. The little camping village is in the distance, far enough that Aaron can’t make out any of the few faces lingering around but close enough that he still feels a familiar, crushing kind of anxiety, and when he looks at Vic, her face is contorted with rage that she can’t conceal.

“Right, that’s _enough_ ,” she says, pointing a finger in his chest hard enough that he stumbles back a step. He rubs over the spot with one hand, Vic looking apologetic for a grand total of ten seconds before going back to furious. “It’s my brother. Robert? You know, the one who isn’t Andy?”

“Right,” Aaron says slowly. He has no choice but to move his feet when Vic starts dragging him again, even though he’d rather not meet this brother of hers. Vic talks about him like the sun shines out of his arse, but Aaron just thinks he sounds like a cocky prick. “What’s he doing here then? This hot shot brother of yours.” 

She tuts a little, shaking her head at him, but weaves through the mess of trailers and over to the one she shares with Belle. There's a man sitting on the steps, elbows resting on his knees and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Well. Three guesses who that is, then.

Robert's up off the steps within seconds, eyes trained on Victoria's hand around Aaron's wrist like he's afraid she's going to contract a disease, or something. Like Aaron is tainted. Like he has _hurt_ Vic, like he’d ever.

"Who's this, then?" Robert says, voice hard. His eyes are glinting like steel, impenetrable, and he doesn't offer up a hand for Aaron to shake. He just stares, mouth curled downwards into a snarl. "And why are you touching my sister?"

"Think you'll find she's touching me, _mate_ ," Aaron snaps, but he wrestles his arm from Vic's grip all the same. 

"Robert," Victoria says. She sounds hard, exactly like Robert did. So similar, in the way that families are. That's not the only thing, though - they have the same mouth, shape of the nose, but their eyes are different shades. "This is Aaron. Who I was telling you about. You know, my friend."

"Don't think you should be hanging around with people like that," Robert says. He points it out proudly, like he's smug, as he eyes Aaron's polo shirt and trackies critically. He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of the gold chain tucked beneath his collar, like his suspicions were right. "I thought Andy was supposed to be keeping a better eye on you!"

Vic stops, hands on her hips and nostrils flaring as she glares at her brother. She looks like a volcano ready to erupt, so Aaron takes a subtle step back, out of the firing line. 

"I don't need anyone to keep an eye on me, Robert, and especially not _you_!" She hisses, the tip of her pointed finger digging into the centre of Robert's chest. It must hurt, the pressure, but Robert barely winces, standing his full height and staring right back at her. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You haven't been here for years! And if you're going to be like this, then you certainly won't be sticking around!" 

Robert looks suitably abashed, like a kid that's just had a telling off from mum. But Vic does have that quality about her, nurturing and maternal. She had to grow up fast, Aaron supposes. Be the mother she lost too soon.

"Now, let's start again," she says, curling her fingers tight around Robert's bicep and steering him towards Aaron. "Robert, this is my friend Aaron. Aaron, this is my brother Robert."

Aaron holds his hand out dutifully, but keeps staring at the floor. He doesn't want Robert to think he's interested or anything; he can barely stand _Andy_ , let alone... But Robert takes his hand and shakes it firmly, leaving no room for imagination. It's nothing more than it is - a warning, a 'stay away'.

Wasn't that bad, Aaron supposes. The worst of it is over, at least.

.

Thursday night is an evening off for the circus. A day of rest before the madness of the weekend, spending time with each other and practicing lazily. Weekends are full of families and drunks; both expect perfection and they're both terrifying when they don't get it.

Marlon (and more recently, Vic. She’d taken an unexpected interest in cooking, so she’d started shadowing – and mostly overtaking) usually end up cooking a feast for the whole crew. More food than they can eat, pies and chickens and vegetables and a whole field’s worth of potatoes, until Aaron is the sleepy kind of full.

Tonight, it’s a little different. Vic hadn’t wanted to leave Robert, but Marlon had sulked and complained enough that she’d gone to help anyway. She left Robert with a promise to be back soon, but it’s been ages since even Aaron has seen her flitting about. 

It’s loud, cans of beer and bottles of pop being passed around with the plates, and Aaron finds himself nestled between Paddy and Sam, laughing at the former’s stories. He’s a clown, when they go ringside, so his stories aren’t _meant_ to be funny – he’s just a little bit pathetic, really, but Aaron can’t help the fond feeling that spreads through his chest.

Chas is staring at him from across the misshapen circle, but she doesn’t look like she’s fuming (for once). She’s watching him interacting with Paddy, with something that’s close to a smile on her face.

Aaron angles his body away from her, and tries not to pay any mind. 

He turns too far to the left, though, and the only thing he can focus on over Paddy’s shoulder is Robert. The man is sitting alone, on the steps of the trailer he’s temporarily sharing with Andy, emptied plate on his knees and eyes downcast. There’s a flush on his cheeks, like his skin must be burning hot even though it’s a chilly night. 

Aaron’s mum would say he belongs there, sitting on his own. So would half the circus, actually – and the rest would just shrug and turn away, pretending they hadn’t seen him. 

Which is why he can’t explain it when he piles his empty plate on top of Paddy’s, and takes large strides over to Robert. The older man doesn’t look up until Aaron’s trainers have been in his eye line for at least a full minute, and when he does, he looks _rough_.

“What?” He asks, voice monotonous. His eyes are red rimmed and raw, but Aaron doesn’t think he’s been crying. Instead, he looks pale, chapped lips with a blush high on his cheekbones and creeping up his throat. Shame, maybe, or humiliation.

“Wanted to see if you’re alright,” Aaron shrugs, kicking at the hard ground. Robert bites his lip and follows the movement, before clearly making a decision and shuffles over so Aaron can sit.

He dumps himself unceremoniously onto the step, squished in next to Robert. They’re touching, thigh to thigh and arm to arm, and Aaron tries not to let such a simple thing as skin brushing and denim friction get to him. He’s _not_ that type of bloke.

“How was your tea?” He asks, when Robert lets the silence drag on for too long. He works his throat once, twice, tries to swallow around the dryness from the proximity, and watches Robert stare at his knees from the corner of his vision. 

“Why are you talking to me?” Robert asks suddenly, cutting through the still air between them just as Aaron had accepted that he wasn’t going to say anything. He looks up, straight ahead, and the younger man follows his gaze.

Victoria is standing by the table of food, watching them fondly. She winks at Aaron when he catches her gaze and mouths ‘thank you’, but he breaks the contact. He doesn’t need to be thanked. He doesn’t want it.

“You’re sitting on your own,” Aaron says, as if it’s obvious. To him, it is – he tracks his eyes a few inches to the right and sees Chas, who had moved to occupy the spot he was in next to Paddy. “I know what that feels like. Being alone.” 

Robert sucks in a breath as if to snap at him, something that’s meant to hurt, probably. But then he looks at the side of Aaron’s face and then to where his eyes are fixed, at the two faces staring back at them, and must understand.

“…Yeah,” he says slowly, leaning forward to put his plate on the ground. Honestly, Aaron expected him be stuck to Andy’s side like glue, but they’ve barely exchanged two words. “It’s not great, is it.” 

It’s a statement, not a question, but Aaron nods in agreement anyway. He doesn’t know what to say (actually, that’s a lie. He has thousands of questions he wants to ask Robert, but none of them seem appropriate), so he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and thinks about the body heat they’re sharing.

Thinks about what it means, when it makes him feel like this. He’s hyperaware, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end every time Robert breathes out against his skin. 

Thinks back so he knows that it’s just not Robert. Remembers that time a kid, barely eighteen – just a year or so older than Aaron himself, but he looked younger – cornered him after a show and asked him question after question about the circus. He was way too invested in the answers to be truly interested, and Aaron’s skin had prickled with both intrigue and disgust at the same time, when he realised. 

Thinks about how he should hate himself, and the person he is. He _does_ – he doesn’t want to be that person, the token queer, the one that everyone whispers about behind his back. But he can’t help but feel a sick thrill whenever he gets this close to a man, especially an attractive one like Robert.

Because he’s got eyes, okay? Even as a straight man – which, he is, thank you very much – he’d still be able to appreciate that Robert’s got a nice face. He does appreciate it. Doesn’t mean he’s one of _those_. 

“So what do you actually do here?” Robert asks, picking at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans. He’s starting to talk a little louder, confidence returning to his voice, but he still looks like a lost little boy.

They’re all like that when they find the circus. Maybe that’s the whole point of this little mismatched crew – to help people put themselves back together again. 

“The shit everyone else doesn’t want to do,” Aaron laughs. He shakes his head to show he doesn’t really mean it, and pulls out his phone, clicking on the gallery. “I’m guessing Vic hasn’t shown you around yet?"

Robert smiles a little self-deprecatingly, but somehow manages to pull it off as wry. “I don’t think I’m that high on the list of her priorities, if I’m being honest,” he admits. The flush is back on his cheeks like he’s embarrassed about speaking it out loud, even if it’s clearly the only think he’s thought about all through teatime. 

“I look after the animals, mostly,” Aaron says, angling his phone towards Robert and scrolling through the pictures. “Leo is… well, exactly how you’d imagine a lion would be. I’m with the horses usually, feeding them and grooming them. I don’t know, I just… stuck with it, I guess?” 

“How long have you been here?” Robert asks, curiosity sneaking into his voice. He looks at the pictures with wide eyes, drinking it in, like maybe he didn’t expect the circus to be exactly how a circus usually is, how it’s portrayed in the media.

Aaron understands. The Dingles’ Travelling Circus is a little less than conventional; it has to be with such a strange mix of people. It hits him then, thinking about it all, that he doesn’t want to leave. That he doesn’t want to abandon his mix match family, and the entertainment they give him. He can’t imagine not eating with Paddy right by his side, or not laughing with Vic every morning as she practices her handstands.

He can’t imagine not seeing Robert slot right in and even himself out, ego calming down until he’s just your typical performer. He knows it’ll happen. It always does.

“A year,” Aaron says with a grin; a genuine, real one. The kind that don’t spread across his face all that often. He stretches his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and looks across the field to the place he calls home every night. “And I can’t see myself ever leaving.” 

“That’s really nice to hear,” Robert says wistfully. When Aaron glances up, he’s looking at the hustle and bustle of people. His expression is twisted into something sad, settling around the corners of his mouth and dragging his eyelids down with the weight of it. “What do _I_ do?” 

Aaron can read between the lines there. He knows what Robert’s saying: _where do I fit in?_ because he felt exactly the same way not that long ago. He felt like that last month, last week, last night. He felt like that this morning. 

“You do whatever you’re good at,” he says softly, reassuringly. He places his hand on the ball of Robert’s shoulder and squeezes gently, and feels the breath snatched right out of his lungs at the grateful, bright smile he gets in return. “You’ll find your place, I promise you.”

It’s a promise he intends to keep.

  


  


  


  


  


  


There’s a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, and cool breath on his cheek. He comes to awareness slowly, rolling over with a groan until his eyes open and Robert’s face is unfocused and blurry, right in front of his.

“Jesus fuck!” He half yells, clutching a hand over his chest as he pushes the duvet back. Robert just laughs, the cheeky git, toeing his shoes off _right there_ where they’re supposed to walk and climbing on Aaron’s bed. “What time is it?” 

“Only six,” Robert murmurs, tucking the duvet around his legs. He shoves his feet under Aaron’s calves, and the younger man hisses at the contact. His toes are freezing, a sure sign of the late November weather. Aaron looks out the window and sees a smattering of snow across the frosty grass, and wonders exactly who’s idea it was to tour a circus all year round. “Chrissie had to go work so she dropped me off.”

“Nice of her,” Aaron says with a sigh, dropping his head back against the pillow. He’d kill for another few hours of sleep – he’d kill _Robert_ for it, but the other man doesn’t seem that bothered by the knowledge, sitting there with a smug grin on his face. “Did you have a good time?” 

“I had a great time,” Robert says. He sounds cocky, boastful, but somehow soft at the same time. Maybe the last part is purely because Aaron knows that it’s (mostly) a front. But he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, tongue poking between his teeth, a flush on his cheeks. “Who doesn’t when two consenting adults are alone in a hotel room?” 

“Spare me the gory details, thanks,” Aaron groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. He doesn’t want to hear about Robert having sex. He doesn’t want to hear about Robert having sex with someone else, his brain supplies, but he tries to pretend that’s _not_ what he thought – and fails.

“Aw, come on,” Robert says. It’s practically a purr, right in Aaron’s ear as he wedges himself between the wall of the trailer and the younger man’s body, throwing a leg over his thighs and an arm over his stomach. “You don’t have to be jealous, you know. I could help you find someone.” 

His nose is brushing against Aaron’s face, leaving trails of cold skin as he settles a little deeper, body relaxing more. Aaron hopes, begs, prays to whatever higher being out there that it’s too dark to see the blush on his cheeks. That, _and_ that his dick doesn’t decide to get it's hopes up. 

“I don’t need anyone,” Aaron grumbles, trying to subtly shift away from Robert without falling out of bed. The older man notices though, and wraps his arm around Aaron’s waist even tighter, pulling him back. “I like being single.”

“No one _likes_ being single,” Robert says, affronted. He sounds sleepy but the frown is evident in his voice, and he digs his fingers into the spaces between Aaron’s ribs in a half-arsed attempt at tickling. “I’m a great wingman.” 

“I’m fine, Robert,” Aaron says firmly. Robert’s mouth touches his jaw when he pouts – he’s like a child, honestly – but Aaron resolutely turns his head so they’re not touching. “I don’t need anything.” 

Robert grumbles something that Aaron can’t make out, but he’s fairly certain there’s a couple of choice words thrown in there. Still, he settles, breathing evening out until Aaron thinks he’s fallen asleep.

It’s perfect, Aaron thinks, because now _he_ can sleep. His two options are to either extract himself from the octopus that he calls his best friend, or to doze off right here… and the second option feels more inviting, so he lets his eyes slip shut, and starts counting backwards from one thousand. 

“Right!” Robert says, all too loud for someone who was supposed to be sleeping. The single word cracks through the silence, shatters the peace, and Aaron almost jumps out of his skin – and out of the bed, if it wasn’t for Robert’s arm around his waist. “May as well go practice, seeing as we’re both awake.” 

“‘m not awake,” Aaron mumbles, trying to turn onto his side in Robert’s vice grip. He doesn’t get very far because the older man starts shoving him inch by inch, until the tips of his fingers are digging in to the edge of the mattress in a useless attempt of keeping him on the bed. “God, stop! I’m up!” 

He rolls to his feet and stands, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly at Robert. Robert, who’s still laying in bed, looking far too awake for the stupidly early hour, as smug as anything. 

“Is anyone even awake?” Aaron asks, digging through the shelves at the bottom of his bed to find his practice clothes. Practice clothes are really just a different pair of joggers and a loose t-shirt, paint splattered from helping Belle and Debbie with the backdrops when they need it, and threadbare around the hem. 

“I heard Liv practicing when I came in,” Robert says, reaching across Aaron to get his own clothes. The younger man turns his back and changes quickly, too cold to be taking his time with it. When he’s done, there’s goosebumps scattered up his arms and he shivers slightly. “So we should go see if she’s alright, at least.”

“Yeah, probably,” Aaron says. He feels like he’s a million miles away, concern grooving a space in his heart for his little sister, but he smiles gratefully when Robert throws a hoodie at him. “Thanks, Rob.” 

It’s times like this he’s glad he’s got Robert. Because he looks after Liv and Robert looks after him, pulls him back from the brink when he feels like a light breeze could blow him right over. He needs Robert, like a lifeline, but he doesn’t feel bad about it. Robert needs him right back.

They take hurried steps over to the big top, but the bitter air settles in Aaron’s bones anyway. The soft melody of a song floats out into the air as they duck through the doorway, one that Aaron doesn’t recognise. It must be one of Liv’s own compositions. 

“You alright?” He asks quietly, walking around the front of the piano so as not to scare her. He sees Robert stroke a hand down her ponytail, giving her head a gentle wobble, and feels a rush of _warmthfamilyfondness_ flooding through his veins at the sight. “You’re up early."

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replies with a fake smile, tucking her hands between her thighs as Aaron sits down next to her. Robert leans his elbows on the side of the piano, frowning when Liv doesn’t tell him off. It must be bad.

“Thinking about your mum?” Aaron says. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezing when she leans into his side. He feels awful for her sometimes, being so far away from her mother and not knowing what kind of a monster her dad is. She still asks him questions sometimes, about what Gordon is like, what it was like growing up with him.

Luckily, Robert sticks to Aaron’s side like glue, and he’s always there, twenty four seven. Whenever Liv gets a bit inquisitive, he steers the conversation away. Of course, he doesn’t even know what happened – no one does, and Aaron would like it to stay that way – but he knows that something _did_.

“I just miss her,” Liv admits, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie subtly. Like they haven’t seen her cry, like _none_ of them have ever cried in front of each other. It’s happened more times than Aaron cares to admit. “I had a dream about her, and it was weird waking up to her and not being able to see her.” 

“You know she let you join the circus because you’d be happier,” Robert butts in. His voice is gentle, careful, because even though he and Liv are practically siblings by now, they still lock horns sometimes. It usually ends in tears, but Aaron knows they love each other. “And she’s coming in two weeks, isn’t she? Get her to come in the morning and you can spend all day with her.” 

“Robert’s right, as much as it pains me to admit it,” Aaron says. It gets a laugh from Liv, at least, and the aching in his heart eases a little bit. He squeezes her shoulder one last time before removing his arm and standing up. “Now, how about we play a game?” 

Robert groans as Liv grins; they both know the game he’s talking about. Whichever song she chooses to play on the piano, they have to create a routine for. Whoever runs out of options first loses. 

They’d come up with the idea the first time they’d found her upset and alone in the big top, and it’s worked ever since. A bit of fun for Liv, and something like accomplishment settling over Robert and Aaron. A way to make their little sister happy again. 

He chalks up his palms and offers it to Robert, who glares at him, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes that shows he really doesn’t mind. The older man swings up onto the lowest bar and hooks his knees around it, falling upside down and offering his hands down to Aaron.

Liv starts playing, tentatively at first, until she’s going full force in a rendition of Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance. And Aaron’s heart settles, properly, for the first time in a while, right here in this oversized tent with his little patchwork family.

Exactly where he’s supposed to be.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron starts making noises about a new trailer. It's- it's less than ideal, really, sharing with Eli. He snores _so_ loudly, not to mention his disgusting habits... Aaron's just about had enough.

And everyone's noticed the tension between Robert and Andy. Too much time in close quarters and there's bound to be a fight, and as much as Aaron would like to see Robert with a black eye and bloody nose, he'd rather not see his friend go through that.

Because they are, now. Friends, that is. Tentative and slightly hesitant, but Aaron found someone who _gets_ , finally. It shouldn't have been that smug prick, but the world works in mysterious ways, he supposes.

Or maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's the fact that Robert has the advantage of not being family, so he doesn't press Aaron for anything and everything he wants to hear. Maybe it's because he's not Paddy, and his blathering, bumbling stories. Maybe it's because he doesn't have that general teenage girl vibe about him, like Aaron's other (only) friend.

Whatever it is, it seems to work.

It started out quite slow, actually. Andy continued to ignore Robert and Vic was always busy, so Aaron sat with him more and more. Inviting him to the barn and eating with him. Spending time together, even if that was just a shared silence.

He showed Robert round because Vic kept forgetting, too busy flapping and trying to be everyone's mother. He showed him the big top, drinking in the way Robert's eyes sparkled with awe at all the acrobatics equipment, towering over them. It makes Aaron feel tiny, unimportant, when he thinks about it for too long. Robert just looked at like there was a world bigger than his.

Maybe that's why they are friends. Robert is loud and brash, taking up all the space his personality occupies unapologetically, while Aaron just wants to hide away from it all.

Opposites do attract, after all.

Zak ends up buying a new trailer with minimal complaining, and as soon as it arrives at camp, Aaron gets a fist full of Robert's blazer and drags him to it. It's empty, brand new and sparkling, and Aaron can't help but feel like the fresh air is flooding his lungs. It helps him breathe, loosens the knots of anxiety on his spine.

Robert grins loosely, in that confident way that Aaron envies and admires in equal measure. The older man is just about starting to carve a space for himself in the circus, somewhere close to Vic and far from Andy, but right by Aaron's side nonetheless.

They're inseparable. Two outsiders sticking together, every step of the way. Aaron would be lying if he said he wasn't happy about it.

But that's the thing, isn't it? Aaron may be happy, and Vic may be happy, and Robert might be happy - Aaron can't tell, because he's hidden himself underneath layers and layers of confidence and arrogance - but nobody else is. Especially not Chas.

She doesn't even have the _right_ to comment on his relationships. Where was she when he was erring down the wrong path? She wasn't around when he needed his mum to tell him what he needed to hear then, so she's sure as hell not allowed to lecture him now. Robert isn't even half as bad as that group.

He's eating alone, for once. He'd missed breakfast because he slept in, too comfy in his new bed and too grouchy when Robert woke up, so the rest of the circus has scattered.

Practicing, or whatever it is they do. Aaron wouldn't know; he barely spends time outside the stables these days. Not that he minds, of course. Between the horses and either of the two Sugdens (at least, the two he actually _likes_ ) hanging around him like a bad smell, he finds that it leaves him no time to be overthinking or spiralling downwards until he hits rock bottom with a hard thud. 

He feels Chas’ presence before he sees her. She’s loud, even when she’s silent, because she’s that kind of person. She demands the attention in every room she steps foot in, heads turning and staring, and she revels in it, being admired.

That gene must’ve skipped Aaron. 

“Son,” she says from behind him. Her voice is as soft as her touch in his shoulder, so she’s clearly trying something new. Maybe Lisa had a word with her, because god knows she’s a better mother to Aaron than Chas ever was. “Can we talk for a minute?” 

“Sure,” he says, barely looking up from scooping baked beans onto his fork. He’s feeling generous, today: he hasn’t told her to fuck off at least, which is something. She seems to recognise that, and sits down next to him.

“I’m not trying to dictate your life,” she says, which, honestly, is a terrible conversation starter. Because Aaron immediately assumes she is, and pushes his plate away from him with a groan. “No, listen. I’m not. I promise you. But you do know what Robert Sugden’s like, don’t you?” 

"I know that he doesn't tell me what to do,” Aaron points out, but he tries not to be unkind about it. He just can’t help the snark, even when he’s trying. “Can you just let me make my own mistakes? Which, this is _not_ … But if it is.” 

“Fine,” she sighs, rubbing a hand across her eyes. Could have gone a lot worse, in Aaron’s opinion, so this reaction is welcome. Lisa must be some kind of miracle worker. “But I’ll be here, to pick up the pieces. When I need to.”

She doesn’t say if, like she’s been to the future and seen what’s going to happen. Aaron hasn’t even considered the possibility; he’s only known Robert a matter of months but he’s already considering the older man as something like a best friend.

Not like he knows what that feels like, though. He’s never really had one before. 

“Thanks,” he says, tries to make it sound grateful but it just comes out a little dull. Chas seems to accept it however, and pats his knee, before getting up and leaving.

Well. Peace at last. 

Aaron watches her walk towards the big top, shoulders straight and head held high. He doesn’t know where he lost his confidence – if he had it before, or just misplaced it somewhere between her leaving and Gordon starting. He must have had it, he thinks. Maybe Robert can help him find it again. 

What's that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear, and all that jazz. Robert ducks out of the big top and starts sauntering across the field, offering Chas a tight smile as their paths cross. Judging by the tension in her shoulders, she doesn't smile back - just tilts her chin a little higher and keeps walking. 

"Alright?" Robert says in greeting, throwing himself into the chair opposite Aaron so hard that he's scared it might break. The older man leans back, all lazy grins and excited energy making his skin glow a flushed pink. "Your mum giving you a hard time again?" 

"Nothing I can't handle," Aaron says dismissively, waving a hand out in front of him. He watches Robert stretch his legs out, pink lips quirked up into a smile. Aaron wishes, more than anything, that he didn't notice things like that. Especially about _Robert_. "What?"

"Nothing," Robert says, but it still sounds smug. He tips his head up towards the sun and closes his eyes, looking all too much like a cat sleeping in a patch of sunlight. 

"No, go on," Aaron says, digging the toe of his trainer into Robert's calf gently. The older man clearly wants him to know, and Aaron's happy to indulge him. That, and the fact he's just nosy. "What have you done?"

"Well, while you were still wallowing in your pit," Robert starts, then pauses, as if to add intrigue. He leans forward, hands braced on his thighs like he's about to launch into one of those obscene stories Aaron's heard too many times. "I was with Leo. You know, the lion."

"Er, yes. I do feed him every day," Aaron says, as if it's obvious. He rolls his eyes when Robert sticks his tongue out at him - like the child he is - then sighs impatiently. "What about him?"

“Think he likes me,” Robert says, grinning widely to show his teeth. He looks a little like a lion then, menacing and full of pride, but somehow like a pussycat, too – warm and content, brushing up against Aaron’s leg like a reassuring presence. 

Aaron leans back, away from Robert’s body heat and the things it does to him. “And how would you know that?” He asks, although it’s mild. No bite. “Does he talk now?”

“No, but he does let me touch him,” Robert says. He leans back in his chair again, hands tucked behind his head and arms stretched out like he’s trying to take up as much space as possible. “What? He knows I outrank him.” 

“Or he’s just biding his time so you can be his next meal?” Aaron says. He can barely pick his jaw up off the floor; Leo growled at him once when he got too close and that was the end of that. He uses an extra long stick to feed him now. “You’re a psycho!” 

“I need to earn my keep somehow, Aaron,” Robert says. He sounds a little strained, and Aaron knows that someone has probably had a word – and not a nice one, at that. They don’t need another general busybody like Aaron, they need performers. He’d overheard Lisa going over the numbers with Zak, worry lacing her tone. “I need to do something, and, well- I shouldn’t really be telling you this…” 

He trails off because he knows that Aaron is hanging off his every word, wolfish smile making his eyes glitter with excitement. Like bait, like clockwork. “What?” Aaron asks, dropping his voice a volume level as he leans forward slightly. 

“Leyla is pregnant,” Robert says, eyes shifting side to side to make sure no one’s mysteriously appeared around them in the last five minutes they’ve been talking. “So she obviously can’t work with Leo anymore, and she said she would train me. To tame him. I’m going to be a lion tamer.” 

That sounds like the perfect example of a recipe for disaster, to Aaron. It’s not Leo that needs taming – it’s Robert. He doesn’t seem to be aware that, between him and the lion, Leo obviously have the upper hand, but even so, Aaron doesn’t think he’d _care_.

“Right,” Aaron says, raising his eyebrows so high they almost meet his hairline. He leans back, crosses his legs at the ankle and links his fingers, gaze raking up and down Robert’s body. “It was nice knowing you, Rob. Hope you’ve got some money set aside for your funeral.” 

“O, ye of little faith,” Robert says, sarcasm coating his tone as he looks (fake) wounded. He wraps his long fingers around Aaron’s wrist – and the younger man tries not to translate that to how those fingers would feel anywhere else – and pulls him to his feet, dragging him towards the stable. “C’mon – you’ve got to earn your keep too!”

And that’s that. There’s no changing Robert’s mind, especially when he’s like this, so Aaron sighs, and just goes with it. 

It’s the only thing he can do.

.

Aaron doesn’t mind sharing a trailer with Robert. Honestly, he doesn’t. A brand new home (that doesn’t smell like horses), and a comfortable bed. His best friend, with him constantly, a reassuring presence and a laugh when he needs it. 

It takes him a while until he realises that he hasn’t even _thought_ about hurting himself once.

So of course he likes it. Even if Victoria takes it upon herself to bring them both breakfast every morning, and then sits with them until she gets called away. Which isn’t entirely bad, considering he doesn’t have to leave his bed to eat. 

Even Chas had thawed, and Aaron had noticed her watching them both interact with fond eyes. He knows he has calmed down since Robert came about, and it could only be a good thing, but he didn’t know it was _that_ noticeable. He just feels better, like his lungs are less blackened and there’s not a cold hand stroking up his spine. 

Of course, there are issues. So many issues, if he’s being honest, but he tries not to think about it. Pushes it to the back of his mind with the other dark things that he refuses to acknowledge. Mothers and fathers, dying lonely, or living at all.

But you can only ignore what’s staring you right in the face for so long.

It’s there, under his nose, when Robert wakes up in the morning. He rolls out of his bed, stands there all sleep mussed in his boxers and a loose t-shirt, and just smiles at Aaron. Simply smiles, with his hair sticking up on end and cheeks flushed from warmth, and.

And Aaron _wants_ him.

It’s like a punch to the gut, when Robert shuffles down to his shelves and digs through his folded clothes to pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt. Aaron knows what’s coming, knows he should look away, but he can’t take his eyes off of Robert’s grin (is it knowing? _Is it_?) and the strong line of his back as he turns away. 

Can’t stop looking at all that smooth, freckled skin, and the way Robert’s muscles shift as he bends over. It makes Aaron’s mouth water, curls his fingers into fists and digs his nails into his palms, because he shouldn’t be thinking this, should he?

It’s wrong. He’s wrong.

He’s fucking disgusting.

The truth of it starts clawing at his insides, leaving deep gouges on his lungs until he can’t breathe. He’s not _gay_. He’s not one of those freaks, he knows he isn’t, he just- he just needs time to remind himself of that, sometimes. 

“Oi!” Robert hisses, indignant as Aaron shoulders past him. He’s still bent at the waist, but he looks back over his shoulder at Aaron with a frown, reaching a hand out to the wall to steady himself. “What you doin’?”

“Getting away from you!” Aaron snaps as he flies down the steps, slamming the door to the trailer behind him. He imagines the whole thing shaking, imagines Robert staring after him in shock, but he doesn’t _care_. Caring is what got him into this situation in the first place.

He doesn’t mean to take it out on Robert – except, he does, because he’s the reason this feeling is coursing through Aaron’s veins anyway. But if it wasn’t him, would it be someone else? Some other bloke, tanned skin and muscles, looking at Aaron like he knows? 

He barely makes it round the other side of the trailer before he’s throwing up, bile burning his throat as he falls to his knees. 

Sitting back on his ankles, he presses a shaky wrist to his forehead and closes his eyes, black spots dancing across the back of his eyelids. There’s still nausea making his stomach roll, and his tongue feels too heavy, and there’s blood rushing in his ears, and that’s why he doesn’t hear the footsteps before he feels the hand on his shoulder.

“Aaron?” The voice says. It’s soft and concerned, vibrating through Aaron’s bones until his spine is less stiff and he slumps slightly. Paddy seems to take the invitation and kneels to the side, not loosening his grip at all. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing,” Aaron says, wiping a hand across his wet cheeks, but it’s wavering and weak, breaking at the end. He tries again, inserting strength that he doesn’t feel into his voice: “Nothing. I’m okay.” 

“You wanna try that again? Without lying to me this time.” Paddy says. It’s so unlike him, this firm, yet gentle pressure – rather than bumbling and stuttering – that Aaron can’t help but open his eyes and look at him. He looks warm, welcoming, but Aaron’s scared that if he opens up, he’ll break into thousands of tiny pieces. 

“It’s nothing,” Aaron says, trying to sound calm. He doesn’t feel it, doesn’t feel strong or solid or anything that makes him a man, but he needs to push Paddy away. Has to find the force, even if it’s fake. “I promise. It’s nothing.” 

“It’s Robert, isn’t it?” Paddy says, nodding knowingly. Like he has any fucking idea about this sickness in Aaron’s body, festering in his mind and his stomach. God, it’s hysterical, Aaron thinks, because if he knew… He wouldn’t be touching him like this. “You don’t have to tell me – but it might help to talk about it.”

“Really, Paddy,” Aaron says through gritted teeth. His muscles have braced and his hands have curled up into fists, gearing up for a fight he didn’t ask for and doesn’t want to have. But if _that_ is how he gets Paddy to leave him alone, he will. He’ll do it. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“You like him, don’t you?” Paddy continues, unaware of the fight or flight response that’s making Aaron’s teeth buzz. His face hasn’t changed; still full of concern and worry. “And not in a friendly way, either.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Aaron says, like a volcano erupting. He wrenches his body away from Paddy’s touch, putting a safe distance of a couple of metres between them. He doesn’t know whether the danger is himself or Paddy’s words, but he knows he needs protecting. “Don’t you ever– _ever_ say shit like that about me again!” 

Paddy gapes, mouth opening and closing several times like a goldfish. He’s clearly flapping now, all of that calm demeanour gone, but Aaron can’t quite bring himself to care. “It’s not the, er, the end of the world, you know... if you are,” Paddy says, because he clearly doesn’t know how to keep his fucking mouth closed. 

Bumbling fucking idiot.

“I am _not_ a fag,” Aaron hisses, standing up and glancing over his shoulder. There’s still no one around, nobody in hearing distance of them, but he’s still not going to be shouting about it and he certainly won’t let Paddy, either. “Do not say I’m like- like one of those _freaks_ ever again, got it?” 

He waits for Paddy to nod, eyes wide and looking a little bewildered – maybe scared, Aaron thinks, he’s scared but that has to be a good thing, he can work it in his favour – and then storms past the older man, glaring back over his shoulder menacingly.

“Because if you do… I won’t hold myself back next time.” 

And with that, he goes, breaking into a light jog towards the forest he can see in the distance. In the back of his mind, he can see blades and blood, and amongst it all, Gordon, grinning: the very root cause of these feelings.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Robert’s quiet. It’s weird, because he’s usually a loud, huge presence, taking up every single inch of space until he’s blocking out everything else. Now, he’s curled up on the corner of the sofa in their trailer, knees pulled up to his chest and arms hooked around his knees.

“Do you think…” He starts, then trails off, silence blanketing them once again. He’s staring into the distance, out of the small plastic window to where Liv is sitting with Belle, heads bent close together as they chat. “Do you think it was a bad idea?” 

Aaron follows his line of gaze, scrunching his knows up when he just sees Liv and Belle. “What? Is what a bad idea?” He asks, because that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Those two are practically best friends, and Aaron’s thankful – Belle keeps Liv out of trouble well enough.

“Liv… Being here,” Robert says, although he sounds a little hesitant. He turns his head slightly, to look at Aaron with a sad look in her eyes. “You see how upset she gets, Aaron. You must be thinking the same thing.” 

The younger man pauses from folding the fresh laundry, wringing a towel between his hands as he bites his lip. “She’s happy,” he says eventually, forming the words slowly – carefully. “She’s happy here, with us. It wasn’t a bad idea.” 

“For you or for her?” Robert mutters, watching Liv again. His eyes have clouded over, somewhere far in a distant memory, and Aaron doesn’t know how to snap him out of it. “She misses her mum so much. Even her dad, and she hasn’t seen him for eight years.” 

“You’re doing alright without your parents, aren’t you?” Aaron counters, but he regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Robert doesn’t look upset though, no offence on his face, but he raises his eyebrows at Aaron as the younger man hangs his head ashamedly, and continues folding the clothes.

“Difference being my parents are dead,” Robert says smoothly. He’s told Aaron before that he’s made peace with it (mostly), so there’s no wobble to his voice, and his touch is solid when he stands and curls his fingers around Aaron’s wrist. “I just wish she could see Sandra more often, that’s all.” 

Aaron drops his head, eyes trained on where his skin is touching Robert’s. It feels warm, in that spot, tingling from the contact, and he focuses on it to push the guilt away. “I know…” He says eventually, mouth downturned at the corners. “Me too.” 

“Don’t you think,” Robert says softly, throwing an arm around Aaron’s shoulders and pulling him against his side. Everything about him is gentle right now, like he’s pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurts. Aaron can guarantee that it does. “That you should at least try and track down Gordon?” 

“ _What_?” Aaron says, jerking away from Robert’s touch violently. He feels like his skin is on fire, betrayal burning him from where Robert’s eyes are on him. He feels sick, like- like the one person who he thought knew him best… doesn’t really know him at all. “No!” 

“Aaron, come on,” Robert says. His voice is still tender, face open and soft around the edges, but it falls when he reaches for Aaron again and the younger man twists himself away. “Please just consider it.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” Aaron snaps. He knows there’s horror in his voice, written all over his face, wonders if it makes him look as terrifying as he feels. “I don’t want him near me, and I _definitely_ don’t want him near Liv. So drop it!” 

“Alright,” Robert says. He sounds defeated, hands held in front of him, but he backs away and drops back onto the sofa. When he looks up, though, his eyes are full of sadness, and he’s rolling his bottom lip into his mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay," Aaron says with a sigh, turning back to the laundry basket. He relaxes his body, tries to shake the sickening feeling from his spine, because he does. He forgives Robert.

He just wishes that he truly, actually meant it.

  


  


  


  


  


  


“So, listen,” Paddy says, fingers drumming nervously on the table between them. He’s not actively searched for Aaron since their previous conversation, but he hasn’t avoided him, either. Right now though, judging by the warmth in his eyes, he seems to have forgotten all about it. “I think – now that you’re finally old enough – we should go out. Make a night out of it.”

“Who’s we?” Aaron asks disinterestedly, not bothering to look up from preparing Misty’s dinner. He can’t think of anything worse than spending a whole evening with Paddy, let alone anyone else the clown drags along.

“Me and you, obviously. Marlon, and…” He trails off nervously, grinning in a way that makes him look more constipated than happy. “Robert.” 

Aaron groans, letting his forehead hit the table with a thump. It makes his brain shake, a little, an ache forming behind his temples, but seriously. Anything has to be better than _that_.

“Why?” He says, letting the suffering, dry tone coat his words. If Paddy wasn’t aware that he hated the idea before, he definitely does now. “And more importantly – when?” 

“Because you need to get out there and see that there’s more to the world than this circus!” Paddy says, throwing his hands up with all the enthusiasm of a child on their first Christmas. “And now. I mean, tonight. Get ready now, we’re going out tonight.”

"Already seen it, thanks," Aaron snaps, but there's no heat behind his words. Quite frankly, it's all a lie - he's seen as far as Hotten, the secondary school he hates, and the inside of these trailers - but he doesn't _want_ to see the clubs of whatever grotty town they're in today.

"I don't care," Paddy says. He pauses, and spreads his arms out for effect, but Aaron's betting it doesn't come off the way he hoped. Instead, he just looks like an idiot. "You're going to see it again!"

"Great," Aaron sighs, resting his forehead against the cool glass window of his trailer. He can feel the headache forming already, pressure behind his eyes and making his teeth ache. 

He thinks he'd rather sticks pins under his toenails and kick a wall than spend an evening out drinking with Paddy... And _Marlon_.

"Sorted!" Paddy exclaims, clapping a hand down onto Aaron's shoulder so hard the younger man winces. Paddy looks apologetic then (sort of, mostly constipated) but it's quickly replaced by a face of disgust. "And - go and have a shower. You stink."

He shoves Aaron out of his seat and towards the showers, making no difference when he drags his feet. Judging by the grin and eye roll Robert shoots his way, it's the last thing he wants to do, too.

At least Aaron's not alone in this.

He showers and changes quickly, shrugging on the Ben Sherman shirt that Robert had bought him a few weeks ago - _"Seriously, Aaron, you can't go around looking like a two-bit chav!" - and dousing himself with aftershave. He still has some dignity left. May as well go out with a bang._

Paddy and Marlon are waiting, talking lowly next to the steps of Aaron's trailer as they wait, but they shut up as soon as Robert opens the door and follows him out. They look shifty, a red flush making Paddy's head glow as he rolls his lips into a thin smile.

"Ears burning, were they?" Marlon pipes up eventually, clearing his throat awkwardly. He smiles for half a second, a fraction too wide to be real, but it drops and he looks gormless again when Paddy digs the sharp point of his elbow into his ribs. 

"...Whatever," Aaron says, shaking his head. He doesn't want to know. He probably wouldn't like it anyway, so he keeps the questions at bay and takes heavy steps away from the trailer, and the three men still standing there awkwardly. "Can we go and get this over with?"

"Good plan!" Paddy says with too much cheer, catching up to Aaron quickly. He hovers at his elbow like a bad smell, too strong to waft away. "Taxi's waiting!"

True to his word, there's a black cab waiting just up the road from where they've set up camp, driver with a deep cockney accent sitting up front and glancing back in the mirror at them every so often. 

He probably thinks they're on a double date or something, Aaron realises with paralysing fear. He subtly shifts away from Robert, creating a mile of distance that's still not enough. It'll never be enough.

It's pretty pointless looking out the window; they've been here before but the outskirts of London all looks the same to him. Red buses and dirty shop fronts, kids on bikes hiding secrets beneath their bandanas and snapbacks. Aaron was one of those once. He still is, in some ways.

But still, he presses his forehead against the cool glass and watches the world go by, because it's better than listening to Marlon's never ending morning about the old, rusty utensils he uses to cook for the entire crew on. Aaron's heard that story one too many times, and honestly, he wasn't even interested the first time.

Robert taps him gently on the arm, startling him out of his thoughts. "You alright?" He asks quietly when Aaron turns his head to look, a line of concern etched deep between his eyebrows. "You're quiet."

"Well, you know me," Aaron says. He tries to inject a bit of humour into his voice, but he's pretty sure he just comes off as bored. "Always the life of the party."

He's dreading the reply, spine already stiff from the prospect of Robert pushing him like he usually does, but he needn't be - the taxi pulls up to a stop and Paddy clears his throat expectantly, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head towards the street next to them.

The club in front of Aaron is brightly lit, neon signs in pink spelling out **heaven!** and flashing strobes escaping through the open door. It sticks out like a sore thumb among all the dingy pubs, and that's how he knows they won't be going there, so he turns on his heel and starts walking to the pub next door, except.

Except Paddy's hand shoots out and grabs his arm, pulling him back until he's stock still in front of the club again. 

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Aaron asks doubtfully, not taking his eyes off the pink decor as he rolls his lower lip into his mouth.

"Definitely here," Paddy confirms, fingers still wrapped around his bicep dragging him to the bouncers guarding the door. Great, Aaron thinks, Paddy's taken them to a girly club. It'll probably only play Taylor Swift and serve cocktails, and there'll be hen parties swarming him from all sides.

Still, he dutifully pulls out his ID and steps through the door when the massive burly bloke nods, even if he does have a strange look on his face.

It hits Aaron all at once, like a sensory overload: bright, blinding lights reflecting off of the glitterball in the centre of the ceiling and loud laughter, pop music blaring out of the stacked speakers so loud that it feels like his ears are going to bleed.

That's not what's surprising though. It doesn't smell like perfume and sweetness like he expects. No, it smells like sweat and something oaky, masculine running right through the middle like a punch to the chest.

He looks around, scans the panoramic view around him- and it does punch him in the chest right then. Forceful enough that he loses his breath, oxygen climbing out of his lungs fast enough that it chokes him, claws up his throat like barbed wire.

Because there's a man over there. Hair perfectly styled and Aaron's pretty sure he's wearing _makeup_ , hand resting on another guy's arm. And another couple over there, and they're- they're kissing, without a care in a world, like it's allowed.

Like it's not _disgusting_.

"Fuck you!" Aaron spits, spinning round to face Paddy behind him. He's suffocating, drowning on disgust and something that feels a little too close to hope. He pushes it back down, points his index finger directly into the middle of the older man's chest. "Why have you brought me here!? Fuck you!"

Then he pushes past the group of people roughly, ignoring the complaints of strangers, and sprints far enough away until it's safe. Until he doesn't feel like he wants to claw his skin off.

Resting a palm against the rough brick wall, he bends at the waist, and heaves until the feeling passes. It makes him want to draw blood.

He's just not sure who's blood he wants to draw.

.

He's there for five minutes, ten, but it feels like it could be hours. Time passes and the world moves on, but Aaron feels like everything's halted. His world has ended.

_They know. How do they know?_

If there's an answer to that question, he's not sure he wants to know it. Is it the way he acts? He's tried to be as straight as he possibly can be; pinning up calendars of half naked women and chatting up girls in pubs. Joining in with Robert's stories, making up fake examples but not too out there that it's not believable.

Because if he acts the part, then he must start to properly feel it, right? That's what he keeps telling himself. So there's _no way_ they know. None at all.

He doesn't have to wait long to find out, though, because he can hear footsteps approaching him. It flares up an overwhelming kind of anxiety in his gut, and he wants to run, to hide and never see the light of day again, but there's a brick wall surrounding three sides of him and a street lamp above his head like an interrogation room.

"Aaron," Paddy says softly, voice not giving away any kind of guilt over what he's done. He clearly doesn't understand it; the way he's betrayed Aaron. "I just wanted to make you see."

"See what!?" Aaron spits, although his voice breaks on the last syllable. He turns and regards the older man with disgust, eyeing his face. He can't believe he was starting to see Paddy as a father figure, can't believe he ever _trusted_ him. "How fucked up I am? How everyone is going to see me different? That I'll need to stay away from _normal_ places for the rest of my life of I ever tell anyone? Because no one will want me around!"

"It's not like that anymore, Aaron," Paddy says, sounding calm despite the storm that's raging in Aaron's head. He reaches out to touch the younger man, but he flinches away, shoulder smacking against the brick behind him painfully. "Those places - gay bars, I mean. They're not for separation, this isn't the fifties. It's a celebration, for other people like that. Like _you_." 

"I'm not one of those!" Aaron yells, even though there are tears pricking behind his eyelids and threatening to spill right down his cheeks. If he starts crying, he's scared he won't stop. "I hate gays, Paddy! I kicked a lad's head in at school for being one, and everyone cheered! Because that's who I am, I'm not- I'm not gay!”

“But you are, aren’t you?” Paddy asks. There’s a knowing look on his face, a kind of twinkle in his eye as if he understands _anything_ that Aaron’s going through right now. If he could see the blackened inside of the younger man’s mind, he’d run a mile. “Can’t you imagine yourself finding a bloke you love and spending the rest of your life with him?” 

Aaron scoffs, spinning on his heel to leave, but something in the stare Paddy has trained on his back makes him stop. “I’d rather live a lonely life than a gay one,” he spits instead, trying to make his voice as hard as possible. 

Now he can leave. 

“That doesn’t work,” Paddy says, stopping Aaron in his tracks again. He sounds sad; for Aaron and maybe _because_ of Aaron, or maybe it’s pity or disgust or- “Because you’ll meet someone, and-“

“Shut up!” Aaron hisses, bringing a hand up to his head. He can still hear Paddy spelling his life out for him, talking about loving men and touching them and kissing them, about walking down the street with them and holding their hands. All the things that Aaron doesn’t want to think about, because that will never be him. Not if he doesn’t let it. 

“I said shut up!” He cries again, fisting his fingers in his hair and pulling as hard as he can. The pain doesn’t help, doesn’t quiet Paddy’s voice nor the one in his head telling him he’s disgusting. He doesn’t know what to do, wants to kick and scream and punch things until he feels better, but he’s just frozen to the spot, tears streaming down his cheeks and nose running. “ _Shut the fuck up_!” 

Later on, he won’t remember how it felt to do that awful thing, just how it felt after. But now, in the moment, he can feel it all. 

He’s fully aware when he turns his body and takes steps towards Paddy, somehow both hurried and calculated. He hears the crack of the first punch when his fist hits Paddy’s face. The older man’s cries are sickening, travelling down his spine and spreading into his organs as he punches, and kicks, and everything else he finds himself doing.

It’s like running on autopilot, but he can’t seem to stop himself. Not even when Paddy’s groaning out pleas, or there’s tears rolling down his cheeks. Not when he’s on the floor with his arms over his head, to block the hits. Not when he’s spitting blood onto the pavement next to him, swaying from dizziness. Not even then. 

The only time he stops is when the fog that’s clouding his mind lifts, and Paddy’s words stop bouncing around his brain – _You’re gay… You’ll find someone… You are one of those…_.

He finds himself heaving again, daring to look over his shoulder. At the only person who’s ever cared about him, laying fetal position on the floor covered in cuts and bruises, so much blood smeared onto his skin that it’s tinged his skin red.

He did that. _Aaron_ did that.

He’s fucking dangerous.

So he does the only thing he knows how – and runs, until his feet ache and his lungs are burning, until he can’t breathe and can’t see past the tears that are blurring his vision.

His legs take him on autopilot, and he runs.

Back to the only place he’s ever called home.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron eyes up the router critically, keeping an eye on the flashing lights. He turns back to his laptop, watching the circle spin round and round and round. It’s loading, very slowly, but if Robert’s used all the internet to buy those poncy shirts again he’s not going to be happy.

Because this is more important. Granted, he hasn’t done it in a while, but that’s because he let his guard slip. He shouldn’t have, because he could have been anywhere by now – could be lurking around the corner of the next town they’re in, waiting to pounce.

Waiting to expose himself and his secret, his disgusting little secret. 

And Aaron can’t put that on his family, can he? It’s fucked him up enough, taken away so many years from his life, and he can’t imagine doing that to his mum. He knows she feels guilty enough; for leaving and for not being there, for not being _enough_. 

That’s exactly why he does this every so often. He needs to know what he’s up against. Typing the name into Facebook still makes him feel sick, but it’s a necessary evil, and every time, he’s glad that his father hasn’t made his profile private yet.

It seems the same as it did last month, or the month before, or even last week – but Liv has made him paranoid. What if he’s somehow mysteriously gotten in contact with her, and is planting ideas into her head? How is Aaron supposed to protect her if he doesn’t _know_? 

The post about the cancer is still there. Nothing worth noting, really, not to somebody who’s already seen it – just a selfie of Gordon hooked up to wires and needles, and a long post informing everyone that he’s sick. 

Maybe it’s supposed to be a guilt trip, Aaron thinks. Written in the hopes that he’d see it, and magically forgive Gordon for ever laying a finger on him. Maybe it’s because he wanted Aaron to find him, to track him down and tell him everything is going to be okay before he finally carks it.

Aaron doesn’t feel guilty about it. Not about the cancer, and definitely not about wanting that sorry excuse for a man to die.

But nothing has changed and the seed that was planted in his head doesn’t grow any roots. Gordon’s still living in Hotten and hopefully he’ll rot there. When it happens, Aaron will be hundreds of miles away, and he won’t bring himself to care. He won’t be upset, and he’s definitely not giving his father the satisfaction of going to his funeral. 

He wonders, sometimes, if Gordon ever does this to him. If he ever searches him on Facebook, hoping to find some kind of information. He wouldn’t get very far – Aaron can’t remember the last time he posted, and he only got it because Robert made him – but the thought… the very thought that Gordon has the _right_ to check up on him makes his stomach turn. 

The critical part of his mind is telling him that he’s a hypocrite, but it makes sense, okay? It just does. He’s doing it out of love for his family, and a little bit of fear. He needs to protect them. He needs to protect _himself_ , because god knows he couldn’t when he was a kid.

That’s what makes it okay. This is justified. 

Robert takes that very moment to burst through the door of the trailer, laughing over his shoulder at whoever he left behind them. He raises his eyebrows when Aaron snaps the lid of the laptop shut, the starts of a smug smile appearing on his face as he takes in Aaron’s flushed face. 

“What are you doing?” He asks slowly, throwing himself onto the sofa next to Aaron. He digs his bony chin into the younger man’s shoulder, trying to prise the laptop out of his hands. “Are you… watching porn?” 

“No!” Aaron cries, tucking the laptop under a cushion next to him. Porn is definitely a little easier to explain than what he was actually doing, but he still doesn’t want Robert to think it’s that. “It was nothing, alright? Drop it.” 

“Fine,” Robert says, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he tucks his head into Aaron’s neck and just stays there, breathing quietly. He makes the silence a little easier, Aaron’s found. Makes it feel less like he’s going to suffocate. “We’ve got two hours before the gates open, and we should probably practice that move again.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, considering it. Last night, he’d nearly dropped Robert, somehow managing to stumble over a split second in the routine, but they’ve worked together so long now that they know when the other falters. It’s a blessing, really, because it easily could have ended in tears. “Come on then.” 

Robert’s blinding smile and the feel of his palm in Aaron’s when he tugs him off the sofa is enough to make all thoughts of Gordon float away.

Well, almost all.

There’s still a part of his mind that’s aware twenty-four seven, but he doesn’t think that will ever leave him.

After all, Robert’s not a miracle worker, no matter how much Aaron wishes he was.

  


  


  


  


  


  


The camp is quiet when Aaron gets back - eerily so. Everyone seems to have disappeared, no lights on in trailers and not even the remains of a fire glowing. He should be thankful, but it mostly fills him with terror.

He barrels into his trailer quickly, not stopping for breath and not checking behind him, because even if the place _seems_ empty, he doesn't want to be seen. The split skin of his knuckles is a dead giveaway, and nobody needs to know what he's just done.

Not like they're going to find out, a deprecating voice in his head tells him. Not like they're going to realise, when Paddy comes back all beaten and bruised. It's not difficult to put two and two together.

He doesn't know how he's going to get out of this one. By now, Paddy's probably called the police, and all of the Met's finest are scouring the streets for him. Calling him violent, aggressive. Telling strangers not to approach him, to call the emergency number instead.

It makes him feel sick, that thought. That someone out there - besides Paddy - thinks he could hurt them. _Will_ hurt them. He wouldn't and he couldn't, or at least he doesn't think he would. Unsurprisingly, he's learnt a lot about himself tonight.

And the worst part of it all, the very worst part, is that he gets it. He understands, because he's afraid of himself, too.

There’s a tentative knock on the door of the trailer, snapping him out of his thoughts. A breathless, paralysing fear overcomes him, half expects to hear _police, open up!_ , but he gets a quiet voice. A voice that he recognises, and waves of calm wash over him.

“Aaron?” Robert asks softly, rapping on the door again. He doesn’t come in, but he must know Aaron’s in there – must be able to hear the younger man’s ragged breathing, the pounding of his heart. “Let me in?” 

He considers it, for half a second. Thinks about how easy it would be to tell Robert to fuck off and never come back, thinks about how simple it would be to just pack a bag and run. He doesn’t know where he’d go, but to hell with the consequences. It’s not like he has much to stay for. 

Besides, everyone will want him gone after this. There’s not a single person that will want him to stick around, and he can only imagine what his mum will say… God. It’d just be too easy to slip into the night and never look back.

Except he can’t, can he? Because Robert is here, his best mate, the only person he’s ever truly connected with. Granted, that might be because of something else, some other fucked up feeling, but still. He’s going to grab onto it with two hands and hold on for dear life. 

That’s why he opens the door, in the end. He doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s definitely not Robert stood there with his shoulders slouched, bottom lip rolled into his mouth. He doesn’t look pitying, but that expression is something very close to it. He looks- empathetic, maybe. Sympathetic.

“Are you okay?” Robert asks, taking careful steps into the trailer and towards the sofa where Aaron’s backed himself into a corner. He doesn’t make any sudden movements, or talk too loud, and the younger man’s grateful because he’s terrified he’s going to lash out again. This time, it might be worse. “What happened?” 

“You seriously don’t know?” Aaron asks with a sneer. He can’t help the scoff, the hardness in his voice, because it’s pretty fucking obvious – just look at the state of him. Bruised, split knuckles, a red, blotchy face, and streams of tears tattooed on his cheeks. “Shows how much you care.” 

Robert doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t let Aaron push him away like he tried so hard. Instead, he stands there calmly, letting the anger dissipate from the air between them, and watches Aaron with cautious eyes. 

“I saw Paddy, if that’s what you mean,” Robert says. He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back against the door. It means Aaron can’t get out if he needs to, but more than anything, it’s a safety net: nobody can get in if Robert doesn’t move, and Aaron trusts him enough to know that he won’t. Not for anything. “Last I saw, Marlon was bringing him back in a taxi to get him cleaned up. He didn’t want to go to hospital, said they’d ask too many questions.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, closing his eyes against the flash of images that attack his mind. Paddy on the floor, bleeding and broken, face contorted in terror from Aaron standing over him… It makes him nauseous. “Cheers for the update.” 

“Begs the question though, doesn’t it?” Robert asks, but it doesn’t sound condescending or forceful. It’s just as gentle as ever, like a comfort blanket – but one that’s threaded with thorns, pricking Aaron when he tries to clear his thoughts. “Why did he want to avoid answering?” 

It throws Aaron off, full body shock that has him recoiling even though he was expecting it. Of course, Robert was always going to ask _why_ … It’s just that Aaron doesn’t know what to tell him.

The truth is probably a good place.

“It was me,” Aaron says, as though Robert doesn’t know. A blind man could spot it from five miles away, but it seems like a good thing to start with. To get the whole story out. “I beat him up. Because- Because he was pushing me, and he wouldn’t stop, and-“ 

Robert takes two steps closer, hesitant and wavering, until he perches on the edge of the sofa next to Aaron. He curls his fingers around the material tight enough until his knuckles turn white, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the younger man. 

“Why was he pushing you?” Robert asks carefully, prodding but not pushing. He sounds like he genuinely wants to help, rather than wanting the gossip. Like Aaron could tell him his darkest secrets, and he’d hold him through until morning. He’s not used to that, really, because living with a small village means news travels fast. “What was it, Aaron?” 

“...I’m gay,” Aaron says eventually. It’s barely above a whisper, with deep, harsh breaths either side, and the words drag out of his throat like barbed wire. Scratching and drawing blood, until it fills his lungs and he’s drowning. “I beat him up because he knows I’m gay.” 

It’s not the answer Robert’s expecting, or maybe it is. Because he doesn’t speak, breathes quietly and doesn’t move a muscle. Like a statue, stunned by the nature of the comment for all eternity. Of course, he could just be keeping silent to give Aaron time to process his own words, but that surely can’t be it. Surely, he’s just disgusted.

“Alright,” Robert says, wiping his palms down his jeans in a nervous movement. The rest of him doesn’t seem nervous, though, and he’s not putting out the energy for it – he seems relaxed and open, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and touch his best friend. “Why did you attack him?” 

The words make Aaron wince, because it’s not like that. Except it is, isn’t it? And Aaron’s just twisted it in his own head to make it seem better.

“Because he wouldn’t shut up!” Aaron yells, suddenly standing up. He curls his fingers into fists by his side and takes deep, ragged breaths, trying to block out Paddy’s voice in his head. “He kept telling me that it’s okay, and it’s not! It’s disgusting!” 

( _It’s not like that anymore. You’ll find someone. You’ll spend the rest of your life with him_ ). 

“Aaron,” Robert’s voice says, cutting through the fog in his mind. He can feel hands on his shoulders, pushing him back to sit on the sofa, and he goes willingly because there’s nothing else he can do. “Aaron, come on, calm down.”

He realises then, that he’s having a panic attack. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s had one, but it bowls into him sidewards and knocks him off his feet all the same. He can’t breathe and he can’t _see_ , and the only thing he can hear is Robert’s voice, but the hands on his shoulders are too much and not enough-

Until he comes back up for air, gasping. 

“Hey, hey,” Robert whispers, hands sliding down to cup the younger man’s biceps. He’s soothing in a way that Aaron’s never heard before, concern swimming in his eyes. It’s startling, but so welcome. “It’s alright, you’re okay. I promise you, you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says tearfully, leaning into the touch when Robert wraps his arms around his shoulders. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, whether Robert will think that he’s- he’s trying to touch him up or something, so he lets his arms hang by his sides even as he rests his forehead on the other man’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to-“

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” Robert says immediately, cutting off Aaron’s sentence. He sounds fierce, protective, and Aaron can’t help but wrap his arms around Robert’s back and curl his fingers into the back of his jacket.

They stand like that for a minute, then two, then for enough time that it feels like hours have passed and Aaron can breathe again. It makes the roaring in his head quieten down and the waves crashing in his belly stop, and he’s not embarrassed by the way he clings to it like a lifeline. 

“Aaron,” Robert says. His voice is back to quiet and careful, like Aaron’s got **caution – fragile!** sharpied onto his forehead. “Being gay is not disgusting, okay? It’s _not_. It’s one of the most normal things in the world, and no one’s going to hate you for being who you are.” 

“But I hate me,” Aaron admits, taking a step away from Robert and wiping his eyes roughly with his sleeve. He’s already embarrassed himself far too much, and the horror of it has started settling on his chest like a crushing weight. “And you’re not going to want to share a trailer with me now, are you?” 

“I don’t care,” Robert says, shaking his head. His mouth is set into a straight line, grim determination meets something else Aaron’s scared to know about. His eyes look sincere though, and he steps forward, taking Aaron by the shoulders. “I don’t think any different of you, and no one else will either – I promise.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Aaron asks quietly. He wrings his shaking hands together, tries to absorb some of the calmness that’s falling from Robert’s body. He really doesn’t care, does he? He doesn’t see Aaron any differently. It’s a relief to see. 

“Because you’re still the same person. You’re _you_ ,” Robert says, digging his fingertips into the muscles on Aaron’s arms. He looks like he wants to shake him a little, but he stays dead still, maintaining eye contact. “And you’re more loved than you realise.”

.

It’s not easy to hide from Paddy in a group this small, but somehow, Aaron manages it. He knows everyone’s schedule off by heart at this point, so it’s not difficult to hide away in his trailer when Paddy is in the big top. He finds himself eating dinner on his sofa, with his plate on his knees and Robert sitting by his side. He goes bed early, so he doesn’t have to look at Paddy’s face.

It works like a dream for the first week or so – probably too much. It lulls him into a false sense of security. 

He gets a bit careless. It’s a week to the day of the incident (although it should be capitalised – life changing and gut wrenching, an awful but important moment in Aaron’s life), and he decides that it’s the perfect time to venture out of his trailer and see the horses.

He’s not spent much time there recently, passing off his duties to Robert with begging and pleading. Robert had accepted, but with a grimace, and between that and Leyla teaching him her lion taming tricks, he looks well and truly exhausted. Aaron feels for him, but he’s terrified of seeing Paddy.

Misty makes it known that she’s not impressed. She barely regards Aaron when he strokes a shaking hand down her nose, twisting her head to the side. He wants to apologise, to tell her that it’s not his fault, but he can’t force the words through his thick throat.

Instead, he gives her an extra sugar cube, and slides his back down the wall until he’s sitting and watches her carefully. She has to forgive him some time, right?

Clearly, that’s what Paddy is thinking too.

“I’ve been waiting to get you on your own,” a soft voice says from behind Aaron, making him jump out of his skin. He clutches his heart and breathes out harshly, but he can’t make himself relax. His spine is rigid still rigid, mind working in overdrive. “I think we should talk.” 

“You don’t have anything to say to me,” Aaron mumbles, staggering to his feet. He takes a look at Paddy, a proper look, for the first time since that night – and it’s _awful_. His face is still painted black and blue with shiny bruises, and there’s a cut through his eyebrow, and another on his lip. 

He looks, to put it bluntly, awful, and once again, it hits Aaron that he did that. He caused these injuries to this man, who supposedly cares about him like- like a father loves a son. Aaron wouldn’t know what that feels like. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Paddy says reassuringly, taking small, careful steps towards Aaron. He tries to smile, but winces, raising a fumbling hand to his mouth. “Alright, well it’s not as bad as it was.” 

“You don’t need to try and make me feel better,” Aaron snaps. For a second, a paralysing kind of fear washes over him, in case Paddy thinks he’s going to snap again… but Paddy just smiles again, small and sad. “Please, Paddy, just leave. You don’t need to put yourself through this again. Just- walk away from me, okay? I’ll understand.” 

“I’m not _leaving_ you when you need someone!” Paddy hisses, voice raised for the first time since he met Aaron. He takes another step forward, into Aaron’s personal space, and grasps his elbow tightly. “You need to talk to someone, and I’ll listen. I _want_ to listen.”

“But why?” Aaron asks, wiping away the tears that have rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t want to cry, but the idea that someone could love him – so unconditionally, even after what he did – is overwhelming. He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling. “I’ve been awful to you, Paddy. I’m a monster. You should run while you have the chance.” 

He slides to the floor again, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his arms on them. He wants to hide, to run and never be found again, but the best he can do is to tuck his face into the crook of his elbow.

But he can still hear and feel everything. Can tell when Paddy sits next to him, can hear him groan quietly. Can see, from the corner of his eye, when the older man wraps an arm around his ribs, clearly in pain, and can feel the nausea that crashes through his body at the sight.  
“You’re no monster,” Paddy says, stretching an arm around Aaron’s shoulders. If the movement hurts, he doesn’t show it, just keeps breathing rhythmically as if he knows that Aaron’s trying to copy it. “You’re confused. And- that’s why I want you to talk to me.” 

Aaron takes a minute to consider it. Runs over a list of pros and cons in his head, as though this isn’t a moment that’s going to flip his life upside down. It’s just easier to look at it clinically, with little to no feelings.

But then he realises that he _can’t_. Paddy, for some reason, loves him like he’s his own, and has stuck around for this long. Stayed by him at the worst of times, and is checking if _Aaron_ is okay. 

The least he owes Paddy is the truth and an apology. 

“I’m gay,” he admits quietly, staring at his hands resting in his lap. The words still don’t come to him easy, sticking to his tongue like it’s coated with tar, but he pushes through. Forces it out. Hopes, that even the second time, a fraction of relief will relax his shoulders. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t. “I am gay. You were right.” 

“I’m glad you can admit it,” Paddy says gently, squeezing Aaron’s shoulder. The touch is a little too tight, but Aaron doesn’t mind. It grounds him, stops him from floating away uncontrollably. “Have you told anyone else?” 

“Robert-Robert knows,” Aaron whispers, daring to look up. Paddy, much like Robert, doesn’t seem disgusted – just proud, for some reason. Like being gay is something to have pride over. “He found me after I- after… and I told him. I told him everything.” 

“How did it feel?” Paddy asks. It’s getting dark now, the sky a calm shade of blue between daylight and nighttime. It’s usually Aaron’s favourite time of day, because he can hide in the shadows. Now, he feels like he’s been split open for all to see. “How did _you_ feel?” 

“I don’t know…” Aaron says. He thinks about it, really, truly thinks about it. Pushes past the guilt and hatred and ignores it, and focuses on the feeling that was at the very core of him. “Normal, I think. Like… like me.” 

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Paddy says. It’s gentle and encouraging, like guiding a child to take its first steps. Aaron finds that he doesn’t actually mind it – the pity. “I’m so happy for you, Aaron.” 

Aaron laughs tearfully, trying to wipe his wet eyes surreptitiously, but there’s no point. By now, Paddy has seen it all, and he knows it all. And the most important thing of all: he stayed, despite everything.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to you,” Aaron admits in a hushed tone, drawing his knees back up and resting his cheek on them so he’s looking at Paddy. “I never meant to hurt you. I just- snapped. And I know you could never forgive me, but I’m truly, truly sorry.” 

Paddy clears his throat and then takes his glasses off, holding them in one hand while he dabs at his eyes. His face has gone impossibly red from holding back tears, but somehow, it doesn’t seem sad – it’s more like tears of pride, of relief.

“I do,” he says, tugging Aaron against his side in a crude attempt at a hug. For once, the younger man doesn’t push him away, just settles and leans into the touch. It’s the first time since he’s been at the circus that he truly feels like he has a family. “I do forgive you, Aaron. I love you like you’re my own, and I forgive you.”

And that, Aaron thinks, is what makes Paddy a better man than he could ever be.

  


  


  


  


  


  


When Aaron wakes up, that dark, sickening shadow that has been lingering over his shoulder his gone. He knows it’s because he’s checked up on Gordon and he’s fallen back into his safety net, but it doesn’t dampen his spirits at all.

It’s later, later than he’s slept in in a while – but he dreamt of happy things, of his family and all the love that surrounds him, so he didn’t want to wake up.

For a few days (pushing a week, really), all his dreams were bordering on nightmares. Piercing blue eyes watching his every move, and a terrifying, smug grin following him everywhere he went. He knew who it was: the bastardised version of his father.

It had gotten so bad that when he woke up for the third morning in a row with shaking hands and dark circles under his eyes, Robert had played the concerned nurse. He’d tucked Aaron back into bed, checking his temperature with the back of his hand, and forced Vic to make some chicken soup. He would have cancelled the show that night too, if Aaron hadn’t told him to fuck off.

But that’s not the case this morning. There’s a spring in his step, an unfamiliar feeling, and it doesn’t fade – even when he notices that Robert is already up and about. There’s a bacon sandwich on the table though, still warm, propping up a note that says ‘good morning’ in Robert’s tidy scrawl and a smiley face for good measure.

It’s nice, having his family so close. He doesn’t know how he would’ve survived the past few years without it.

Which is why he knows he needs to apologise to Robert. After he’d snapped at the older man the other day, he felt guilty, but it was necessary, okay? He knew that, he did. Robert needed to get the message, to listen. Aaron did what he had to, and it had only gotten worse.

Aaron was bad enough when he’d had only a few hours sleep: grumpy and irritable, and everyone stayed well away, but because Robert thought he was sick, he’d hovered and fussed and annoyed the shit out of Aaron. Add the reoccurring nightmares about Gordon on top of that, and it was a recipe for disaster.

A recipe for him to argue everything Robert had said to him, no matter how big or small. 

Seeing things in the clear light of day is a little different, and he can feel the shame flushing the back of his neck bright pink as he flicks on the kettle and dumps a tea bag into a mug.

 _can we talk?_ he texts, hesitating over Robert’s contact in his phone for half a second before pressing it. It’s better to get it over and done with – not that Robert had been angry with him. It seemed like nothing he could do would make the older man snap, and god knows he’d tested that theory enough. 

He doesn’t have the time to worry about the text, or what it means that Robert hasn’t replied, because the door flies open not even two minutes later to reveal Robert, flushed and breathing hard like he’d ran back home.

“Everything alright?” He asks breathlessly, squeezing himself onto the bench across the table from Aaron. He watches the younger man eat, eyeing him critically like he’s trying to find any injuries, but when he sees nothing he breathes out in relief. “Are you okay?” 

Aaron takes a moment to finish his sandwich, then smiles at Robert and kicks him under the table. “I’m fine, soft lad,” he teases. Robert rolls his eyes, but Aaron can’t help but notice the way his body relaxes. “I wanted to apologise.” 

“What for?” Robert asks, pulling a face that’s supposed to look confused but just looks ridiculous. He looks like he genuinely doesn’t get it though, and gestures for Aaron to elaborate further.

“For snapping at you all week,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath. Apologising… he’s not great at it, really. It feels a little much too like admitting defeat, and he’s more stubborn than is probably health, but Robert knows this. It’s almost refreshing. “And for shouting, when you said about- about Gordon.” 

“It’s alright,” Robert says, reaching over and giving Aaron’s hand a quick squeeze. There’s a bemused expression on his face, but more than anything, he looks soft. Welcoming. That’s probably why Aaron fell- why Aaron _liked_ him all those years ago. “Honestly, it’s like water off a duck’s back. But you will take into consideration what I said, yeah?” 

“I just don’t think it’s the right time to find Gordon,” Aaron says through a thick throat, forcing a compromising smile onto his face. It’s never going to be the right time – he’d promised himself as soon as he saw Liv that he’d never subject her to that sick fuck of a man – but he’s not going to tell Robert that. “She’s not been here long. She’s still getting used to it.”

He forces his heart rate to slow back down, conscientiously breathing at an even pace, and blinks a few times. Thinks about all the techniques Paddy has taught him over the years, and counts backwards from ten.

Works like a dream.

“Fine, subject closed,” Robert says, slipping out of his seat and holding his hands out, palms up – a proverbial white flag. Then his entire expression changes into something playful, the conversation clearly entirely over, and grabs Aaron’s wrist. “Come on, it’s almost midday – you haven’t even warmed up.” 

He pulls the younger man out of the trailer door and into the field towards the big top, excitedly explaining a new move he wants to slot into the routine, and Aaron can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.

Because he’s finally fucking free.

  


  


  


  


  


  


“How do you think your mum will react?” Paddy asks casually, reaching over to grab his can of beer from the coffee table and taking a swig. “You know, when you tell her.” 

They’ve piled into Aaron and Robert’s trailer; the two of them, Paddy and Marlon. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, because they’re the only trailer that has a Playstation. Why Paddy doesn’t buy his own, Aaron doesn’t know. They’re always getting the newest games with nothing to play it on. 

“What you on about?” Aaron says, playing dumb. As if it’s not obvious by the flush creeping up his throat and the way his fingers go lax around the controller. And if _that_ wasn’t bad enough, Robert keeps shooting him darted little looks, a line of concern between his eyebrows. “Tell her what?” 

“Er, that you’re gay,” Paddy says dismissively. He doesn’t look up from the game, just keeps shooting zombies until there’s nothing but a red screen staring at them and the game is over. “Don’t worry, Marlon knows.”

“What the _fuck_ , Paddy?” Aaron asks, reaching over and slapping the back of his hand against the older man’s arm. Paddy winces and grumbles, but it’s honestly the least he deserves right now. “Why?”

“Well, when I saw his face, it was pretty obvious…” Marlon says, gesturing aimlessly at Paddy’s face. He’s trying to come off as nonchalant, but he’s blushing bright red and gaping like a fish. Clearly he thought Aaron knew that he knew. “But I don’t mind, honest. Not a problem.” 

Right. Because _that_ makes it all better, doesn’t it? Aaron elbows Robert in the ribs, because he’s done nothing but stare at the interaction, and silently asks if he knew. He shakes his head, and Aaron knows immediately that he’s telling the truth.

He wouldn’t lie. Not about something like this, anyway.

“I suppose I’m going to have to now, aren’t I?” Aaron snaps, throwing his controller onto the sofa beside him. He stands, curling his hands into his fists, and squaring his shoulders. It’s not a fight response, not in the slightest – he’s just gearing himself up to tell Chas before anyone else does. 

Paddy just watches him with careful eyes, never moving from his spot on the sofa. He knows, somehow, that even after The Incident, Aaron isn’t going to hurt him. He never flinches, never shies away from the younger man’s stance. He just stays by his side, talking about everything and nothing until Aaron is ready to talk.

But this time, he just stays where he is. He must be getting better at reading the room, Aaron thinks as he leaves the trailer, jogging down the steps and into the field. There’s lights on everywhere even though it’s late: it’s a Saturday night, and people have been to the pub, or stayed in. Drinking either way, because what else are they supposed to do?

As soon as the cool air hits Aaron’s face, he stops. Takes a second to breathe and play out the scene in his mind. Him telling Chas, Chas telling him she hates him… It’s overwhelming, so he ducks behind the side of Cain’s trailer because he knows he’s out, and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Tries to calm down. Because he knows he needs to do this – especially _now_. 

“Hey,” A voice says. Robert’s voice, coated with a sickly sweet soothing tone. He doesn’t bring it out often, only for those he truly cares about. Aaron knows he should be honoured, and he probably would be if it wasn’t for the panic squeezing his insides tight. “You don’t have to tell her, not if you don’t want to.” 

“But I do, don’t I?” Aaron counters, staring down at Robert’s shoes. Why he still wears those posh oxfords in this mud is still a mystery, but at least counting the splashes gives Aaron something else to think about. “Because god knows who else Paddy has told. And it’s not going to stay a secret very long in this place.” 

“I asked Paddy, after you left,” Robert says. He’s clearly given up with trying to get Aaron to look at him, because he rests his back against the wall of the trailer next to him instead, knocking their shoulders together. “He said he hasn’t told anyone else.” 

“And you believe him?” Aaron argues, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. He knows that Paddy would never betray his trust like that – Marlon aside, but that was different. Of course he had to know, he is his best friend. Not to mention the fact he was there that night. He deserved the truth, and even Aaron can see that. 

“Look, you don’t have to tell Chas if you’re not ready,” Robert says, placating. He knocks his shoulder against Aaron’s again, a sign of camaraderie – _I’m here, I’m listening, I’m not going anywhere_ – and steps in front of him. This time, Aaron looks up. “But if you do want to… Then I’ll help you.”

“How can you help me?” Aaron asks. It’s not meant to be a dig, not accusatory in the slightest: he’s just bewildered. It’s not like Robert share his own experiences or talk him through it step by step.

“I don’t know… I didn’t get that far,” Robert laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. He shifts from foot to foot, absently worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he thinks, until a smile spreads across his face and he locks eyes with the younger man again. “I can be there while you tell her. If you want, I mean.” 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Aaron says gently, reaching out to touch Robert’s elbow. He smiles, one that shows that he’s genuinely grateful for his friend, but this is a big step for both Aaron and his mum. “This is something I need to do on my own. I appreciate it, though.” 

“At least let me walk you to her trailer,” Robert offers with a dazzling grin. It almost, sort of, a little bit, makes Aaron feel weak at the knees – but then he shakes it the fuck off because Robert is his best friend, and _straight_ at that. 

They walk in companionable silence, elbows knocking together every so often. It’d be so easy for Aaron to reach out and tangle his fingers with Robert’s, and he has a feeling that the older man wouldn’t mind, but he curls them into fists instead and keeps his arms rigidly straight by his sides.

“Thanks, Rob,” Aaron says when they come to a stop. He feels awkward; doesn’t know how to do this. He can’t think of a single friend he’s ever had that he could talk to like this, about anything, and he thought that kind of thing was fake. Until now. He just wishes Robert knew all of this. “You’ve been great the last couple of weeks. I just- I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

Something lights up in Robert’s eyes, making them sparkle as the apples of his cheeks grow rounder. He’s flushing, maybe, but he lightly punches Aaron on the shoulder. “Any time,” he says as he starts to walk away.

It sounds like a promise.

.

It’s unseasonably warm tonight. Warm enough that Aaron can be sitting on the grass, legs kicked out in front of him and no hoodie, his phone next to him blaring out The Stone Roses tinnily. Robert is much the same next to him, offering him a gentle smile when he passes a cool can of beer over. 

“How does it feel, then?” He asks, fumbling with Aaron’s phone to turn the volume down a few bars. He sounds interested, actively listening. His ears may as well have pricked up like Leo’s do when he hears the two of them bickering. “Now that everyone knows.” 

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Aaron says, playing it off as cool. But then he bursts out laughing, because that’s the understatement of the century. The entire circus knows by now; those who weren’t told directly heard it from someone else. “It’s… it’s great, Rob. I feel light for the first time in years. I feel like me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.”

Nobody had kicked off. Nobody had hated him, like he expected, and there wasn’t any shouting or screaming. A few tears, yes, but mostly of understanding from Chas. Because she got it now, she said. Why he was always so angry, and why he always treated her like the enemy.

She gets half of it. She doesn’t need to know the rest: it’s no longer relevant. 

“I told you everyone would understand, didn’t I?” Robert says, but it’s not accompanied by a smug smile like Aaron expects. Instead, he looks hesitant, with a forced smile on his face. “You should listen to me more often.” 

Aaron takes a moment to consider it. He’s never been the one to be there for Robert (not emotionally, anyway), so he doesn’t know how to play this. Should he ask? Should he just leave it? Or should he push it, and see how far he gets? 

He decides to take the first option, and cross any further bridges when he gets to them.

“I’ll listen if you want to talk,” he offers quietly, turning his head to watch the solid profile of Robert’s face. The younger man swallows, contemplating keeping whatever it is a secret, but then he sighs and leans back on his hands, tilting his head up towards the dark sky. “You don’t have to, but I’m here.” 

“It’s- it’s weird, okay?” Robert says, defensive already. The long line of his throat is mildly distracting, especially when he swallows, so Aaron forces his gaze back up to his face. “I’m bisexual. I’m bi. I like both.” 

Aaron’s heart starts thudding in his chest, threatening to rip right out of his ribcage and across the field, leaving a bloody trail behind it. Does that mean- Does Robert- _Could he_ –?

“Jumping on the bandwagon, mate,” he says with a dry mouth and a thick throat. The words are weak, even when he tacks a shaky laugh onto the end, but Robert doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you trying to hog my limelight?” 

“Shut up!” Robert laughs, shoving at Aaron’s shoulder. It seems to break the tension – on Robert’s part, anyway. Aaron can’t stop wondering what if. “I’m serious. I just… I saw how nobody treated you any different, and I think…” 

“You think what?” Aaron asks. Robert’s looking at him, something intense on his face. There’s a serious look in his eyes, mouth formed in a straight line, and… Aaron’s waiting to get kissed. Thinking about how it’d feel, if Robert’s mouth is really as soft as it looks, about those long fingers splayed across his ribs.

Of course, life is never that easy.

“I think I want to tell Vic,” Robert says, pushing himself into more of an upright position and away from Aaron. He looks slightly stricken, panicked even, and he glances off to the side, where Victoria and Belle’s trailer sits in the distance. “I want to tell Vic I’m bi.” 

“Alright,” Aaron says, breathing out slowly. He flexes his fingers against his thighs, tries to calm the shaking. Alright. He can do this. He can talk Robert through it. “That’s… That’s great, Rob! How long have you known?” 

“I realised when I was fifteen,” Robert says immediately. He doesn’t even need to think about it, because he can remember the experience: there’s a small smile on his face, tinged with sadness at the ends. “But I don’t wanna talk about that. Not right now.” 

“Okay,” Aaron says, placating. He reaches out and curls his fingers around the ball of Robert’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “I’m- I’m happy that you’ve got it figured out. That you’re ready, now.” 

“Will you come with me, please? I know you didn’t need me, but-” Robert says. He leans into the touch, so much so that their thighs are pressed together and Aaron can feel the hairs on the crown of Robert’s head tickling his neck. “I need you. I need you there.” 

The admission shocks Aaron to the core. He feels like he could be knocked backwards from the force of it, and sent tumbling into outer space. Robert’s never this vulnerable, never willingly, anyway… and this is huge. 

It feels like a milestone in their friendship, paving the way to a lifelong commitment. 

“…Alright, but I can’t say I’ll be any help,” Aaron says. He keeps his voice low so it doesn’t carry any further than the space between them. He watches Robert from beneath his lashes; the workings of his jaw and the clench of his fingers over his knees. “When are you going to tell her?” 

“No time like the present, is there?” Robert says. He’s already getting to his feet, wiping a few stray blades of grass from the knees of his jeans. He holds a hand out for Aaron to take, and pulls him up, then smiles a little uncertainly. “Come on, then.”

The whole thing is a blur. Robert’s nervous chattering does nothing to calm Aaron’s stomach as they walk across the field, and he’s sweating even though it’s not _that_ warm. It shouldn’t be this bad: it’s not his family and it’s not his sexuality, but his head is still spinning. 

Maybe, he keeps thinking, Vic will take it worse if it’s her own brother. And then there’s Andy. God, there’s Andy. He’s going to flip his shit; the relationship between him and Robert is frayed enough.

Aaron is so not prepared for this.

Robert doesn't stutter like Aaron did. The words slide out of his mouth like butter, with something of a self deprecating smile, and his hands aren't shaking. He's breathing evenly, and there's no shine of sweat across his forehead.

The difference is startling. 

And he needn't have worried about Vic's reaction; she takes it with her chin held high and tells Robert she loves him. That he's still her brother, even if she does give him a gentle flap for keeping it from her for so long.

Neither of them take any notice of Aaron, who stands in the tiny kitchen and watches the interaction before him. It's fascinating, to see how the Sugdens pull together. They may be at each other's throats more times than is strictly necessary, but one thing is undeniable: their love is unconditional. Open and welcoming, a warmth Aaron has never felt.

Just as he thinks both of them have forgotten about him and starts to think about quietly slipping out the door, Robert glances over his shoulder and offers him a tiny smile. It's barely there, but the corners of his eyes are crinkled upwards in happiness.

It makes Aaron feel like the only person in the whole world. 

Like he finally matters.

  


  


  


  


  


  


It's like they always say: one door closes, and another one opens. Except that in this case, it's not about opportunities. Nothing in Aaron's life could ever run that smoothly, could it? No, this is something else entirely.

Aaron might be feeling better. He might be able to walk down the street without looking over his shoulder, or finally stop panicking whenever the curtain to the big top twitched open. He might not be thinking about Gordon every minute of every hour of every day, but.

But something in Robert changes. 

He becomes quiet, withdrawn. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that Aaron does. They do spend almost every second of the day together, after all. Vic doesn't catch it, but Aaron can't hold it against her. Robert is great at hiding things; the mask he puts on most morning is basically flawless.

The thing that Aaron notices most is the tension in Robert’s body. The way his muscles stiffen up when he’s swinging from Aaron’s hands, that’s not right. That’s not what this is supposed to be: he needs to be relaxed. And Robert is a professional, one who never brings his personal issues to the show.

That’s what makes this so worrying.

Aaron knows Robert well enough by now to know how to approach this. Carefully, with caution and fragility. There’s nothing worse than when someone pushes his best friend, because he retreats right back into his shell and becomes hard. Unbreakable. Downright awful, sometimes, and Aaron’s the one who has to bear the brunt of it.

He always apologises after, of course. Robert isn’t Robert when he’s like that, and Aaron knows that, and he also knows that nothing the older man could say will hurt him. It doesn’t make it any nicer, that knowledge, but he’s still going to stay by his side until he’s ready to talk.

Like today. That’s what he’s going to do today.

“Rob?” He asks, brushing the back of his hand across Robert’s shoulders as he passes, sliding a cup of tea across the table towards him. It’s the third time in ten minutes that he’s had to snap Robert out of his thoughts, so it’s getting beyond concerning now. “Are you alright?” 

“What?” Robert asks, looking up at Aaron suddenly. He smiles weakly, tapping the younger man’s hand as a thank you as he takes the mug. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

It’s an obvious lie, and not a good one – it stumbles out of Robert’s mouth roughly, syllables one big mess of a stutter, and Aaron frowns, put doesn’t push it any further.

“Wanna go for a drive?” He says instead of pushing it, watching Robert drink his tea in long gulps. If he’s so desperate for caffeine that he’s getting it out of a cuppa, it must be bad. “Get out of here for a bit, see some different things.” 

“That’d be nice,” Robert says, with a proper smile this time. Aaron takes a good look at him, and really notices: the way his skin is paler than usual, without a flush on his cheek. The heaviness of his eyelids and the dark circles like bruises, that show he hasn’t been sleeping. The sad slope of his shoulders, and the tilt of his head. “Thank you.” 

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Aaron says, gently nudging Robert’s shoulder with his elbow. He turns and grabs the older man’s jacket, handing it to him without a word. 

Because Robert knows what he’s planning by now, he must do. And Aaron’s found that letting him think about it, letting it sink in until he realises that people _do_ care about him and want to help – well, that’s the best way to get him to open up. 

They drive for what seems like hours, but it’s barely been forty-five minutes when Aaron pulls up at a viewpoint. Beachy Head, the sign said, leading them to a cliff that’s overlooking the sea. 

It’s dead, eerily quiet, but that’s to be expected at three in the afternoon on a Thursday. Kids at school, normal people at work. Those that have nine to five jobs don’t usually dare to venture out in weather like this – light snow and howling winds – but Aaron’s found there’s something incredibly calming about it. No people, no noise, nothing to cause a sensory overload.

Robert must know he does this but Aaron’s never brought him along before. It’s not that he’s against it, it’s just that sometimes, he needs to be alone. He doesn’t get that often, so he takes any opportunity.

But Robert isn’t wired that way. He might snap and yell like he wants to be alone, but he craves company. It scares him being alone, is what he once told Aaron, because that’s when he’s truly at his worst. Destructive, but only to himself. 

“Alright?” Aaron asks, offering Robert a blanket that he found in the boot. He unfolds his own one and wraps it around his shoulders, perching on the front of the car and looking out over the edge of the cliff. The sea is rough, crashing against rocks and boulders with a spray of white foam. 

For once, Aaron doesn’t feel like he wants to jump. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Robert asks. His voice trails from behind Aaron, and the younger man realises he hasn’t moved – is still just gripping the blanket with white knuckles, watching Aaron with a confused look on his face. 

Aaron considers lying, considers honesty, then settles somewhere between the two. “Because you needed to get away,” He says, shrugging as he pats the bonnet of the car next to him. Robert seems to take the hint, sitting closer than strictly necessary as he winds the blanket around his body. “Because sometimes, that circus can be suffocating.”

He knows that better than anybody, and he knows that Robert knows. Especially when he shoots him a grateful smile, tinged with sadness at the edges, and rests more of his weight on Aaron’s shoulder. 

The silence is almost golden. It’s never been awkward, between the two of them; just quiet companionship and a familiarity that makes something in Aaron’s bones relax. Now, it’s filled with anticipation – but only on one side. Robert’s working things out in his head, and Aaron’s waiting to hear the result. 

“It’s been seven years since my dad died,” Robert says eventually. His voice is quiet, body curled in on itself like he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. It’s a startling difference from the man who usually commands the room. “Seven years today.” 

“I’m sorry,” Aaron offers, looking at Robert from underneath his eyelashes. He didn’t know, but he feels like he should have. Vic hadn’t mentioned it, Andy certainly hadn’t – and they were carrying on like normal. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Robert says automatically. It sounds rehearsed, like he’s been playing this conversation out in his head for days. Like he’s planned what he’s going to say down to a tee, and then never actually managed to get round to it. “You weren’t to.” 

It sounds too perfect, too robotic, and Aaron pauses. The air between them is expectant again, this time on Robert’s behalf. Like he’s waiting for more questions. Waiting for the right time to tell Aaron something _else_.

“That’s not all it is, is it?” Aaron asks gently, turning his body towards Robert. The wind is still whipping around them, most of the volume of their conversation being carried away with it, but this isn’t the right time for shouting. He inches closer.

“He hated me, Aaron,” Robert says suddenly. If his last words were devoid of emotion, these ones are full to the brim, tears choking his voice and cracking syllables. “He fucking hated me.” 

“What? Don’t say that,” Aaron says. He can’t stop the frown on his face, because it’s not _true_. He’s heard plenty of stories about Jack Sudden (only from Victoria and Andy), and even just from that Aaron can tell he loved his kids more than anything. “He didn’t hate you!” 

Aaron knows what it feels like to have a parent who hates you. More than most, probably, and he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. Even without… the other stuff… the look in Gordon’s eye whenever Aaron put a toe out of line was enough. The despise and hatred, the pure bitterness.

And Chas had hated him too, for a while, hadn’t she? She’s denied it until she was blue in the face, but it was clear as day. Aaron didn’t blame her: he hated who he was back then as well. 

“No, Aaron, trust me. He- he knew, about my…” Robert trails off, staring over the edge of the cliff. The view stretches across for miles, but that isn’t what Robert is looking at. His eyes have glazed over and he’s in a different world, one of a time passed. “He knew I was bisexual.” 

“You came out to him?” Aaron asks. He can’t stop the bewilderment from seeping into his tone, because that doesn’t sound like Robert at all. The Robert he knows now refused to come out to anyone but Victoria, because it was _none of their business_.

But maybe Jack was what made him like that.

“No, no, God no,” Robert breathes quickly, snapping back to the present. He turns to look at Aaron and then looks away again. His face is crushed, devastated. Like he’s living it all again. “There was…. When I was fifteen, we had this lad help on the farm. We became friends.” 

“And you liked him?” Aaron asks uncertainly, biting his lower lip. Robert nods shakily, fingers curling into the plaid fabric of the blanket even tighter. Aaron has an idea where this is going because he’s heard too many stories from his friends. They all start and end the same way. “Did you… do stuff?” 

“We were going to – he came up to my room and kissed me,” Robert says. There’s something in his voice a little stronger now, and he’s smiling vacantly at the memory, but then something snaps and his face falls. “Dad caught us.” 

Aaron lets a small ‘oh’ escape his lips, nothing more than a rush of air, because he doesn’t know what to say. Robert’s finally opening up, vulnerable and torn apart, and Aaron knows he needs to get it out. He just doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“He sacked the lad on the spot,” Robert says. He’s subconsciously shifted closer to Aaron, until they’re pressed together arm to arm and thigh to thigh, leeching warmth and strength and whatever else he needs right now. Aaron would give him all of it, if the could. “And then… He leathered me.” 

Those three words shock the breath right out of Aaron’s lungs, like a punch to the gut. He knew what was coming but he still didn’t expect it, not from _Robert_. Robert, who might not be out there advocating for LGBT rights but who doesn’t give a fuck about what other people thing. Robert, who will bring both men and women home with him, and not even blink twice at other people’s reactions.

Robert, who’s been carrying the weight of this huge, black, ugly thing on his shoulders for the best part of fifteen years.

“I didn’t think he was that kind of bloke,” Aaron says, when he can finally find his voice again. It’s probably not the right thing to say, but he can’t think of anything else. Doesn’t know if there is a right thing. “Not from what I’ve heard.”

“He wasn’t,” Robert says, forcing a smile onto his face, but it’s pathetic. Aaron can see the cracks, can see right through it – like somebody’s thrown a brick at a window. “He just didn’t want a son like me.” 

“Fuck,” Aaron breathes quietly. He keeps his eyes on Robert’s face, but the older man refuses to make eye contact. Instead, he stares forward steadfastly – with determination. Aaron would probably admire it, if the situation was right.

“So there you have it,” Robert says, cracking a sarcastic smile. He’s clearly trying to put his walls back up, but his chin is still wobbling, tears glistening in his eyes. “The life of Robert Sugden: the disappointment son.”

“You’re not a disappointment,” Aaron snaps. It’s harsher than Robert’s expecting, judging by the way his head twists to face Aaron and his eyes grow wide, but the younger man refuses to take it back. “You’re amazing, Robert.” 

Robert turns his head to the other side and wipes the back of his hand across his nose, blinking several times to stop the tears. It doesn’t make a difference though, because his shoulders are still shaking and his voice is rough when he whispers, “Shut up.” 

“No, I _mean_ it,” Aaron says, curling an arm around Robert’s shoulders protectively and pulling him against his side. The older man goes willingly, tucking his face into Aaron’s neck. “You’re amazing, and he was _mad_ not to see that.”

It’s silent for a minute, then two, and then what feels like an hour as Robert composes himself again. The air between them is filled with quiet snuffling sounds and hitched breaths, the sound of Aaron brushing his fingers through Robert’s hair rhythmically. 

“Thank you,” the older man says eventually, pulling away from Aaron’s embrace slowly. He’s smiling, only ever so slightly but it’s real and not forced, so Aaron will take what he can get. His eyes are brighter too, and there’s colour back across his cheeks. It makes the vice grip around Aaron’s heart loosen. “You’re a great mate, you know that?” 

“Yeah, well,” Aaron says, pulling a face. He doesn’t think he is; he’s only doing what Robert has done for him a thousand times before. It’s only right that he repays the favour. “Good job I love you, innit?” 

The slip of the tongue makes Aaron freeze – he hadn’t meant to say that, it was the last thing he wanted to say – but Robert doesn’t seem to take any notice. Any notice that Aaron actually _meant_ it, of course.

“Come on, take me home,” Robert says, wrapping his long fingers around Aaron’s wrist and pulling him to his feet. Just as it’s starting to look like Robert hasn’t realised what Aaron said, and the younger man is daring to sigh in relief, he turns around with a bright grin and squeezes his fingers once. “By the way, I love you too.”

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron spins his pint between his palms, looking around at the scene in front of him. It’s the first night of their week stay in Manchester, and Robert had decided that it was the perfect time to go out on the pull. This bar is understated – not as loud and bright as the one Paddy took them to – but it was normal. 

That’s probably what makes it so much easier.

Of course, Paddy and Marlon had wanted to tag along. Aaron refused to answer (mostly just so he didn’t swear at the older man until the air turned blue), whereas Robert flat out said no on behalf of both of them. 

“So, what kind of blokes are you into?” Aaron says, eyes tracking along the row of men stood at the bar. They’re all attractive, in different ways, but none of them are catching his eye. “What’s your type?” 

“Don’t really have a type,” Robert says. He takes a long swig of his pint, raising his eyebrows at Aaron over the top of it, and then sits back against his chair with a self satisfied smirk on his face. “Besides, I’m wingmanning for you tonight.” 

Aaron’s torn between mild intrigue at Robert ‘not having a type’ and whatever the fuck wingmanning means. The former… it sends his pulse spiking, because if Robert doesn’t have a type, then maybe his type could be _Aaron_. Maybe, just maybe, they could be figuring all this out together. 

Which might not be such of a bad idea. As long as they can keep it contained. 

They can work out the details later, of course, but now seems to be the perfect time to ask. A few pints down, in a bar that’s specifically catered for men like them… The feeling of liberty rushing through their veins… And somewhere they’re not going to miss if they skip out early.

Perfect time.

“Robert,” Aaron says, angling his body towards the older man lowering his voice so no one else can hear. It’s not exactly the best way to go about it, sure, but it’s the best Aaron can think of right now. “I’ve been thinking, and-“

But then Robert isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking over Aaron’s shoulder instead. “Good evening,” an unfamiliar voice says, sounding relaxed and amused all at once. Then there’s an unfamiliar hand on the younger man’s shoulder – a gentle touch, but one he wants to shrug away nonetheless. “Can I buy you a drink?” 

Aaron turns and looks at the person that the voice belongs to. He’s attractive, yes, good-looking, definitely, but there’s a place that Aaron’s mind automatically goes to, and that place compares the stranger and Robert. 

Obviously, Robert wins hands down.

“Er, no thanks,” Aaron says, barely glancing back over his shoulder with the dismissal. The stranger’s goodbye gets lost in the din of the bar as he walks away, but honestly, Aaron couldn’t care less. He’s just pissed off that he was interrupted. When he focuses all of his attention back on Robert again, the older man is looking at him with raised eyebrows and something like disbelief on his face. “What?” 

“Don’t _what_ me! What are you doing?” Robert says. His mouth flaps open a little bit before he shakes his head and lightly punches Aaron’s shoulder, a small laugh bubbling up his throat. “Why didn’t you let him buy you a drink?” 

“Didn’t feel like it,” Aaron says, although he’s feeling a little self-conscious now. There’s a flush travelling up his throat and across his cheeks, and he presses the back of his hand to it subtly, more thankful than ever for the low lighting of the bar. “He wasn’t that good looking, anyway.”

Truth be told, he just wanted to spend some more time with Robert. Yes, they spend basically twenty-four seven together, but this is different: the beer, the aforementioned liberty. Different places, different people, and Aaron wants to get to know every single version of Robert that exists. 

“He was fit, and he’s the first person that’s taken an interest in you!” Robert exclaims. He starts to edge closer across the bench, and then gently shoves Aaron in tiny little movements until the younger man is entirely out and standing up. “Go accept that drink, and _talk to him_.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” Aaron says with a scowl, downing the rest of his pint and then crossing his arms across his chest. Robert just regards him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, unlucky for you, because I’ve just seen someone I know,” Robert says, climbing out of the booth with the grace of an elephant. Robert is too tall to move smoothly, all long legs and flailing arms, but he stands and stares Aaron down. “So I’ll meet you back here after – unless, you know, you end up going with him.” 

It’s obviously a lie that Robert has seen a friend, considering they’ve never even been to this town before, but before Aaron can protest, the older man has disappeared into the crowd of people and out of sight.

So there’s only one thing to do.

He finds the stranger at the bar, talking to another man, but it doesn’t seem intimate. It doesn’t feel like Aaron’s interrupting anything, so he taps him on the shoulder and tries on an apologetic smile. 

“Look, I’m sorry about that before,” he says, as placating as he can muster. He feels way out of his comfort zone, thrown in the deep end without a lifeguard, but he knows that if push came to shove, Robert would be at his rescue. “It’s just- this is all new to me.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” the man says with a smirk, but it’s not cruel. It’s teasing, friendly, even, and he holds out a hand for Aaron to shake. “I’m Jackson, and you are…?”

“Aaron,” Aaron says, shaking Jackson’s hand. The other man turns back to the bar and signals for two pints, so he’s clearly a regular here, if he knows the staff that well. He pays, then turns back, handing the drink to Aaron. “How did you know that Robert wasn’t my boyfriend?” 

“Call it intuition,” Jackson says, placing a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and squeezing gently. Then he flushes, cheeks turning a faint pink. It’s a reaction that Aaron never expected from the man – even though he can’t really comment, considering he only met him ten minutes ago. “And a little bit of hope.” 

From across the room, Aaron catches Robert’s eye. He’s talking to someone, but he doesn’t look that invested – and that’s how Aaron knows he’s going home alone tonight. Still, Robert winks at him, a cheesy little thing that has Aaron chuckling, and then he turns back to his conversation.

Aaron might be going home alone, but he knows this won’t be the last he sees of Jackson. Not by a long shot.

.

“So, how’s things going with lover boy?” Robert asks, stretching his full length across the sofa. It makes him look huge, tall and broad, and if Aaron wasn’t taken, he’d find that image way too attractive. “All’s well in the love nest?” 

“All right, never took you for a walking cliché,” Aaron snorts, turning his back to Robert and busying himself with the kettle so the older man doesn’t see the flush on his cheeks. “Things are good with _Jackson_. You know, his actual name.” 

Robert hums, sounding all too pleased with himself. In last the three months that Aaron and Jackson have been official – twelve weeks and four days, but who’s counting? – he’s taken it upon himself to remind Aaron that he was the one who made him take the chance. His own personal cupid, Robert keeps saying, with that smug grin on his face.

Granted, it had been a little rocky at first. Obviously, Aaron travels constantly, so being in a new town every single week proved a bit of a problem. That was solved by Jackson’s willingness to travel – which Aaron thought was a little ridiculous, frankly, because he’d be driving miles-round trips _and_ forking out for a hotel, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it made his heart sing. Only the tiniest bit, of course. He wasn’t that soft. 

But as soon as that was sorted, something else cropped up. Aaron’s life has never been easy, so he should have expected it, but he was lulled into a false sense of security by Jackson’s gentle touches and dazzling smiles.

The next thing was, really, Aaron’s own fault. It was a mix of two things: the fact that this is his first relationship, and the fact that he has only just came out. It’s not even been half a year yet, and something ugly was still buried deep inside him when he first met Jackson. He didn’t mean for it to fester, honestly- it’s just that when you’ve lived to an ideal for your entire life, you can’t just change it overnight.

Old habits die hard, and all that.

The issue is affection. Affection in public, he means. Holding hands and kissing and hugging and even just sharing _looks_. The thought of it sent his head spinning and his heart racing, palms sweating and lungs breathless. He didn’t know how to do that sort of stuff. He’d never even thought about that sort of stuff, but Jackson?

Jackson loved it. He loved to reach across and sort the collar of Aaron’s shirt out, or tangle their fingers together while they walked down the street. He liked to kiss Aaron goodbye, or sling an arm around his shoulders in the pub.

He just didn’t understand why Aaron pulled away. It had caused arguments – only a couple, not too many, but enough for Aaron to realise it was a problem. So he compromised. That’s what people do in relationships, isn’t it? Compromise, and all will be happy.

But for Aaron, nothing had changed. He could compromise all he wanted; the public displays of affection still made him feel nauseous and panicky. But Jackson was happy, blissfully so, and that’s all that mattered.

Ever since, it had been nothing but plain sailing.

“When you gonna bring him here, then?” Robert asks. Aaron can feel his eyes tracking his every movement: getting the mugs out of the cupboard, fishing out teabags from the box, dumping spoonfuls of sugar into the cup. It doesn’t make him feel intimidated, just – safe, maybe. Like someone’s always got his back. “I need to meet him first, obviously. Make sure he’s good enough.”

“Whatever you say, big man,” Aaron says, scoffing as he hands Robert the mug. The very idea of Aaron’s best friend playing the big, scary part… Well, it’s laughable at best, and downright ridiculous in reality. “He’s perfect for me, thank you very much. Don’t need you playing father figure.”

“I’m sure Paddy will do that instead,” Robert says, blowing the top of the tea. He’s grinning, something behind his eyes showing that he’s thinking of the scenario. Aaron has to admit, it’ll be a laugh to see it in action. “What do you think your mum will say?” 

Something tightens in Aaron’s throat. He doesn’t know when this concept turned from _if_ to _when_ , and doesn’t know if he likes the idea. It’s not that he doesn’t want Jackson to meet them – it’s that he doesn’t want to subject his boyfriend to this fucking mental group of people. 

He doesn’t know if Jackson will still want him afterwards, when he realises the kind of baggage that Aaron comes with.

“I don’t know,” he manages to say. Forcing the words out is hard, but the look on Robert’s face is even worse. He’s figured it out, Aaron guesses, because he’s frowning, a thin line of concern between his eyebrows. “Can’t say I’ve really thought that far ahead.”

He tries to lighten his tone, to play it off as a joke, but it doesn’t work on Robert. It never has. The older man sets his mug on the table and stands up, bare feet padding against the linoleum floor as he makes his way over to Aaron.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks softly, placing a hand between Aaron’s shoulder blades. His fingers span the width of the space, palm giving out heat like a radiator, but it makes Aaron want to shrug it off and run far, far away. “You know they’ll love him. Everyone will.” 

“It’s not that that I’m worried about,” Aaron mutters, keeping his eyes firmly on the sparkly granite counter. There’s a faint coffee stain just to the left of his white knuckled grip, and he focuses on it, traces the shape over and over again until it’s burned into his retinas. “What if-?” 

He cuts himself off, because if he says the words, then they will come true, won’t they? Everyone always says that you have to be careful with what you say. Aaron’s not superstitious, but he’s never been lucky, either. 

“What?” Robert says. His voice is as gentle as his prodding, but he knows exactly how to make Aaron open up by now. “What if what?” 

“What if _he_ doesn’t like _them_?” Aaron asks, stressing the words. It’s his worst nightmare, but he wouldn’t blame Jackson. Honestly, for the first few weeks, _he_ wasn’t sure if he liked his own family. “What if he realises how fucked up this whole set up is and decides it’s too much? What then?” 

“Er, nothing,” Robert says. His words are oddly forceful, and he grabs a hold of Aaron’s shoulders and twists him round. This is the kind of eye contact that Aaron is caught by – the kind that Robert uses when he wants all attention on him – and he can’t bring himself to look away. “That’s not going to happen, and you know it. What’s brought all this on?” 

The rational part of Aaron’s brain knows that it’s unlikely, if not impossible, but there’s a sickening anxiety sitting low in his gut. This is his first relationship. What if he makes a mistake? What if he fucks it up? What if he truly is unloveable? 

Where does that leave him? Alone for the rest of his life? 

“It’s just- it’s just because of how I feel about him,” Aaron says, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t want to be heard, but the one thing he’s found recently is that Robert is always listening. “Because I love him.” 

“Then why are you dragging your heels?” Robert asks. That concerned look on his face has disappeared, replaced by something that’s too close to exasperation. He releases his grip on Aaron’s shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows at the younger man. “If you can see a future, then you should do it the next time he’s here. Tell your family that you’ve met someone, and that you love him. Then you can focus on forever." 

It sounds like something from a bad magazine for teenage girls, and Aaron doesn’t know when his best friend became that person, but he laughs anyway and wipes away the stray tear that’s fallen down his cheek. 

“Thank you, Robert,” he says, standing on his tiptoes to pull his best friend into a hug. They stand there, for maybe a second too long, but it’s not weird – not for them, anyway. They’re family, aren’t they? Practically brothers. “Thanks for helping me sort my head out.” 

“Any time,” Robert says with a smile, patting Aaron’s back clumsily a few times. He pulls away, grin still firmly fixed in place, then lightly, playfully, punches the younger man’s shoulder. And that’s that – conversation over, all of Aaron’s fears quelled. “I’m just glad you’ve found your forever.”

But the younger man doesn’t miss the lost, vacant expression on Robert’s face.

  


  


  


  


  


  


At the click of a fingers, Robert is back to himself.

Of course, for the rest of the day after the admission about Jack, he hadn’t been magically fixed. The drive back to the campsite was quiet, and Robert spent most of it staring wistfully out the window, but the air seemed less tense. Less like an elastic band that was about to snap.

He’d been tactile for a few days after, too. Always seeking comfort. Whether that was a hug or Aaron’s hand carding through his hair as they binge watched Narcos, he was constantly pressed against Aaron’s side, clinging like a leech.

Aaron didn’t mind. They’d known each other for long enough now that nothing was weird between them, and he figured that it was just because Chrissie wasn’t around for a while. Her son had just started at a new school, Robert said, and so she couldn’t come see him for a few weeks.

Either way, he gradually comes out of his shell a little more. It takes a week or two until he’s no longer shying away from Vic and Andy, wounds too raw to be picked at. And then, it’s another week until he’s fully himself: talking loudly and laughing even louder, making heads turn purely by his presence alone.

There’s something in the line of his shoulders, something that seems… less tense. Less like the weight of the world is resting there. It’s just a fraction, and maybe Aaron wouldn’t even see it if he wasn’t looking, but he’s the only person who knows.

Well, the only person aside from Robert himself and a dead man.

It makes him wonder. Is that how it feels for everyone? Like that constant pressure has eased a little? Like maybe Robert can breathe for the first time in fifteen years. Or like certain things finally don’t hit a little too close for comfort.

God, it makes him wonder.

“Are you going to tell Vic?” Aaron asks hesitantly, one day. It’s been long enough now that he’s certain Robert isn’t going to crack again, but it still took him a few days to fully work up the courage. “About what your dad did?” 

Robert, to his credit, doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hesitate where he’s swinging on the trapeze, and his muscles don’t tense up. He barely even glances at Aaron, so caught up in the practice that the younger man isn’t even sure if he was heard.

“No,” Robert says, pulling himself up to sit on the bar, legs swinging over the edge. He looks down at Aaron, where he’s sitting on the edge of the stage with his legs crossed, playing about with a new Spotify playlist. “No, there’s no point.” 

“Why not?” Aaron asks. He’s the one that’s hesitating now, not wanting to push his best friend too far. But Robert lets it wash over him, back straightening as soon as he hears the introduction to a new song they’re trying to put a routine to. Aaron pauses it, and silence fills the big top as loud as the roar of a crowd. “Don’t you think she deserves to know? And Andy?” 

“What good is it going to do?” Robert says. He slowly lowers himself until his feet are touching the ground again, and then mirrors the position Aaron’s sitting in. “My memories of him… They’re already tainted. I don’t need to put that on them, too. They worshipped the ground he walked on.” 

There must be something on Aaron’s face, something dark and- maybe even saddened. In fact, he knows it’s there, because he can feel it in chest. For the childhood that Robert should have had – the same one that Victoria and Andy had.

For the childhood that was snatched away from Aaron himself, and torn to shreds, until the very thought of it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Aaron…” Robert starts, reaching out and grabbing Aaron’s hands. He pulls them forward, until they’re resting in the few inches of space between  
them, and then ducks his head until he meets Aaron’s gaze. “I don’t feel the need to tell them. If I thought it would make anything better, I would, but it’s not, all right? So I’m not going to say a word. I told you; that’s enough for me. I feel better about it. Okay? I promise you, I’m fine.” 

He looks fine. Nothing in the expression on his face is betraying his words. His chin isn’t trembling, and his eyes aren’t wet, not like they were that day on the cliff edge. His cheeks aren’t flushed and his tone is sincere, and his body is completely relaxed.

“Okay,” Aaron says, breathing out deeply, long and low. He’s let himself be convinced, because Robert _is_ right, as much as he hates to admit it. Words can’t change a memory.

Which is why he decides, there and then, that he’s never going too breathe a word about what Gordon did to him. Robert’s words are ringing in his head: _what good is it going to do?_

Chas might not even believe him. And even if she did, she’d feel sickened by guilt. Cain wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror. It might be the end of uncle Zak, and Paddy- god, he’d take it the worst of all, and he wasn’t even around then.

So he metaphorically locks the box, and throws away the key. 

And that’s that. Aaron’s going to keep his mouth shut. 

“Sorry,” he says again, offering Robert half a smile. One that’s a little self deprecating, a little regretful. He’s glad he did bring the conversation up, but… “Sorry for making you think about it all again.” 

“I told you, it’s fine,” Robert says. He squeezes Aaron’s hands and then drops them, rising to his knees until he’s towering over the younger man and can crush him with a breathtaking hug. “You don’t ever need to worry about me.” 

_But you might need to worry about **me**._

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron mulls over Robert’s words for days – until the next time Jackson comes to visit. He’s right, Robert: why should Aaron shy away from this incredible thing he’s found? He doesn’t want to keep it a secret, he wants to shout it from the rooftops.

Of course, he’s still a little hesitant about it. This is the first time he’s brought someone home, to meet his family. They might have been fine when he came out, but seeing his sexuality in practice? It could be a different story.

But there’s only one way to find out, so he tells Jackson to prepare himself with plenty of notice. He’s excited, is Jackson – he’d been making noises about meeting the family for a while, and Aaron had already met his mother. That made him feel a little better, because Hazel was… Well, she was something else entirely. 

He can see Jackson’s van parking up in the distance, and jogs over there before he can be intercepted by any given member of Aaron’s family. That would never do; in fact, that’d be an absolute nightmare. Jackson probably _would_ run a mile. 

“Alright?” Jackson greets with an easy smile, pressing a chaste kiss to Aaron’s temple. It’s nice, the way his face lights up when he sees his boyfriend: eyes sparkling and a lazy grin – it’s something that Aaron didn’t think he’d ever get. “Ready to throw me to the lions, then?”

“You joke,” Aaron says, with a snort. He can’t take his eyes off Jackson’s face as they walk, searching for any sign of reluctance. But he finds nothing, just that _I’m-so-lucky_ expression that Aaron’s seen in the mirror all too often. “But we actually do have a lion.” 

“Believe me, Aaron, I know. And I also know that Cain will probably feed me to it if he doesn’t think I’m good enough. But,” he pauses as they come to a stop in the middle of the campsite, glancing around. There’s trailers and tents, makeshift dens for animals, and then, in the middle of it all, the big top. Where the magic happens. Jackson looks like he’s in awe. “You’re worth all of that.” 

Aaron laughs it off, but the warmth of the words spreads up his spine and across his shoulders, making his skin tingle and his cheeks flush pink. “You can meet Robert first,” he says, instead of doing something stupid like spilling all his deepest feelings. 

He raps his knuckles gently on the door of the trailer, shooting a reassuring smile over his shoulder to Jackson. But his boyfriend is as calm as ever, a gentle hand on Aaron’s back guiding him into the trailer when Robert grunts in response.

Well. This is it. Into the deep end head first, and without an oxygen tank.

Robert’s slouched on the sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table as he clicks through something on his laptop. He’s dressed in his practice clothes, jogging bottoms and a loose t-shirt – _seriously_ , Aaron had reminded him so many times that Jackson was coming – but he, at least, stands when he sees Jackson trailing in behind.

“Alright, mate?” Jackson says, offering out a hand for Robert to shake. The older man takes it with a tight smile, eyes raking up and down Aaron’s boyfriend’s body, assessing him. “You must be Robert. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All good things, I hope,” Robert replies, but his voice is clipped. Polite, but clipped, and Jackson seems to notice, judging by the look on his face from Aaron’s peripheral vision. “How was the drive here? Brew?” 

It’s weird, because Robert doesn’t do small talk. As soon as he had saw Aaron, let alone met him, for the first time, he’d jumped straight in and asked him what his intentions were with his sister. They laugh about it now, obviously, but it was… intense. And that’s putting it lightly. 

“Yes please, and – not too bad. Thanks,” Jackson says. He pulls a confused face at Aaron when Robert turns his back and fusses around the kettle, because Aaron had briefed him, hadn’t he? He’d told Jackson that Robert was likely to interrogate him. “So… what do you do here?” 

“I’m a lion tamer,” Robert says simply, but there’s something a little threatening behind his tone. Truth be told, he’d only upgraded to entirely working with Leo – alone – last week, and it’s only been in the show a matter of days, so it’s not as intimidating as it sounds. “You?” 

“Oh, I’m a builder,” Jackson says. He tries to keep his words cheery, smile still tacked onto his face, but it falls again when Robert doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge him. But you know what they say – god lovers a trier. “I’m contracted to build extensions onto houses, refurbish shops, garden walls… stuff like that, you know.” 

“Typical tradie then,” Robert says. He finally turns around, resting his lower back against the counter as the kettle boils behind him. His face is hard, not even the slightest bit welcoming, and honestly, Aaron wants to stamp on his foot. _Hard_. “Bit of a lad.” 

“You know what?” Aaron says, cutting off whatever Jackson is about to say. He knows both of these men more than most, and he knows the way they’ve squared up to each other. He knows what comes next – and it’ll be a slanging match, at best. “I think we’ll skip on the brew. We’ve got a lot to do today.” 

Robert doesn’t say a word, just turns back to the now boiled kettle and pours the hot water into his favourite mug. The line of his shoulders is rock solid from tension as he works, not even offering a goodbye, so Aaron just shakes his head and ushers Jackson towards the door. 

Just as he’s about to step outside, he turns his head to see if Robert’s calmed down from whatever awful mood he’s in – but all he catches is Robert looking at him, vacant behind the eyes with his mouth turned down, before he averts his gaze again.

Seriously, Aaron doesn’t know what his problem is.

“Right, I’ve told mum and Paddy that you’re going to meet them together,” Aaron says quickly, closing the door to his trailer behind him. He’s keen to ignore whatever just happened with Robert because he knows he doesn’t have the answers to any of Jackson’s questions. “That all right?” 

“Sounds fine,” Jackson says, sounding entirely unfazed. He seems to have picked up on Aaron’s mood, because he doesn’t mention it – there isn’t anything on his face, either. He’s forgotten about it entirely, and Aaron is nothing if not grateful. “Lead the way.” 

Aaron doesn’t bother knocking this time, because he knows that if left to their own devices, Chas and Paddy would have been suited and booted and waiting to meet Jackson for the last four days.

Because they actually _care_ about this, and want to make a good impression – unlike some.

“Mum?” He calls, popping his head around the door. She’s flapping about, punching throw cushions and swatting Paddy’s arm away from the plate of biscuits placed she’s placed pride of place on the coffee table. 

“Yes, love, come in!” She says, gesturing at him. This posh accent she’s put on – it’s _weird_. It’s like her telephone voice, but ten times worse, and Aaron can’t help the snort. “Cup of tea? Biscuit?” 

“Sit down for a minute, Chas,” Paddy says, rolling his eyes. It’s clearly meant to be a snap but it just comes out as nervous, much like his posture when he stands. “Jackson, I assume? It’s great to _finally_ meet you.”

He wipes his palms on his trousers a few times, and then offers his hand out for Jackson to shake. And, to his credit, Jackson accepts, with a full smile and no signs of disgust. He handles it with much more grace than Aaron would.

"It's an honour to meet you both," Jackson says, kissing Chas on the cheek. She seems delighted by that, and wiggles her eyebrows at Aaron, before telling them both to sit. "I know how much you mean to Aaron."

"And now so do you!" Chas exclaims. Her enthusiasm is way past endearing and into embarrassing, and Aaron presses his palm to his forehead to hide his face. He _knew_ this would happen, even though he'd warned her. "It's lovely!"

They chat for a while, with Aaron offering one word answers and pained noises every so often. Jackson handles it like a pro, telling Aaron's mum and father figure his plans for the future in a way that has Paddy nodding furiously, clearly impressed.

It's obvious that Paddy is trying to play the hard man, vetting Jackson - at one point, he even asks what his intentions are with Aaron - but his shifty demeanour downplays it all.

Just when things have finally settled down, and Jackson and Chas and Paddy are all laughing at an embarrassing story, Jackson reaches over and takes Aaron's hand.

And that is what ends it all.

"Right!" Chas says, standing up and gesturing wildly. Her grin is so wide it's almost manic, but it's no less real. She seems like she genuinely likes Jackson, and Aaron releases the breath he feels like he's been holding all day. "I'm sure you're sick of us by now. Why don't we go and meet everyone else?"

She crowds them out of the trailer and into the field, closing the door behind her with a definitive thud. This is it, then. There's no turning back now.

Although Aaron isn't sure he could take it all back, even if he tried. With the exception of Robert being- well, _Robert_ , it was all plain sailing. Smooth, with no apparent issues. It's more than Aaron could have ever asked for, let alone wished.

It’s louder out in the campsite now that it’s nearing dinnertime. Shouts and laughter, and the sound of pots and pans clanging about as Victoria and Marlon cook. There’s people everywhere, lazing about on chairs, cracking open cans of beer, and one glance back at Jackson has Aaron’s heart swelling in his chest.

Because he looks like this is the only place he’d rather be. His eyes are lit up, grinning as he takes in the mess of people, treating each other with warmth and kindness. Lisa is the first one to come over – ever the grandmotherly presence that Aaron adores in appreciates in equal measure – and she introduces herself, taking Jackson by the arm and offering him a beer. 

Aaron smiles at the scene. Zak’s sat one side, with a spare chair next to Jackson that’s reserved for Aaron, and then there’s Lisa, and Sam, and even Charity has parked herself down, looking like she’s genuinely interested in whatever Jackson is saying.

These people – they’re Aaron's family, and by extension, they care about the people Aaron cares about.

Except there’s someone missing.

Someone who, however unlikely, ended up becoming the person who Aaron relies on most. Someone who’s there to comfort him through his shitty days, and celebrate him on his good days. Someone who always asks his opinion in a conversation, and makes sure he’s never alone. 

He turns his head to the left a fraction, and sees Robert sat on the steps to their trailer, knees pulled up to his chest and chin resting on them. He looks a little more than lonely – almost like everything he knew has been turned upside down – but he offers Aaron a small smile when he catches his eye.

Right. Aaron should probably go and sort this out, before it gets any worse.

“I’m gonna go talk to Rob,” Aaron says, squeezing Jackson’s shoulder as he cuts into the conversation. He glances back over at his best friend, who’s watching the exchange with sad eyes, then back at Jackson, who doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. “I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?” 

“That’s fine,” Jackson says. He’s smiling, but it looks a little strained around the edges – but it’s getting dark, now. Maybe it’s the blue hazy light playing tricks on him. Either way, he chooses to ignore it, especially when Jackson loops his fingers around Aaron’s wrist and brushes his thumb over the thin skin there. 

Robert lifts his head as he sees Aaron make his way over, but he stays where he is. Maybe he’s realised that he was wrong today and they need to talk, however unlikely that is.

The biggest possibility is that he’s still in a shitty mood and wants to pick a fight to make himself feel better.

“All right?” Aaron asks. He can feel the awkwardness rolling off his body in waves, but that’s only because he’s protecting himself. No point going in all emotional, just to have Robert use it against him. 

“I’m sorry,” Robert says straight away, and Aaron breathes a quiet sigh of relief. He tries to make eye contact and fails, staring at a point just under Aaron’s eye, on his cheek, but it’s close enough that the younger man accepts it. “I was a dick today.” 

“Yeah, you were,” Aaron says, motioning for Robert to move up before settling himself on the step below. He rests his back against the railing, looking up at Robert and watching his face carefully. “What’s up? Don’t you like him?”

“I barely know him,” Robert points out with a raised eyebrow, sarcastic even when he’s the one in the wrong. Yeah, Aaron thinks. That’s what makes this situation so weird. “I don’t know. It’s just…” 

He trails off into silence, looking broken open and lost, and so fucking vulnerable. He must feel it, too, because he stares down at his knees, picking at a loose thread on his joggers.

“What?” Aaron asks softly, curling his hand around the bare skin of Robert’s ankle. He has no idea where this conversation is going, or where Robert is leading to, because for once – Aaron can’t read a single thing about him. 

“Seeing both of you together… It’s a lot different than you telling me how you feel about him,” Robert says, pulling a face as he keeps his eyes cast downwards. There’s something sad in his voice, something that makes Aaron want to reach out and hug him, but he stays perfectly still. “Seeing you so open. I don’t think I’ll ever have that.” 

“Of course you will, idiot,” Aaron says, chastising, but it’s only gentle. Teasing, at best, with a little touch of sympathy – even if Robert would hate him for it if he listened close enough to realise. “Anyone would be lucky to have ya.” 

“Thanks, Aaron,” Robert says with a hint of a smile, even though he doesn’t look convinced. Aaron forgets, sometimes, that Robert is just as insecure as everyone else. He hides it better, yes, but occasionally it becomes too much, and it shines out of him like a beacon. “I know I shouldn’t have taken it out on Jackson, but…”

 

“He’s not as bad as you think, you know,” Aaron says, grinning to show that he’s not holding it against Robert. He knocks his elbow against the younger man’s knee, feeling happier than he should when Robert laughs, then stands up and holds out his hand. “Come on. And try and be nice this time, yeah?” 

“No promises,” Robert says, but he’s laughing as the words come out. He takes Aaron’s hand and pulls himself to his feet, and with one last grin aimed at Aaron, he disappears over to where Victoria and Andy are sitting, launching himself into the conversation straight away.

Well. It’s better than nothing, Aaron supposes. 

“Aaron, lad!” Uncle Zak calls from across the group, gesturing at Aaron to come over. He does, to find Jackson still sitting there, charming the pants off of everyone. Aaron takes the empty seat next to him, and looks at Zak expectantly. “Your boyfriend here has got some news!” 

“Your uncle’s offered me a job,” Jackson says, looking at Aaron from underneath his eyelashes. He’s blushing, the shyest Aaron’s never seen him, but it’s- well, it’s a shock. It’s not a surprise that he’s a little hesitant about it. 

“Come on, love,” Lisa says to Zak over their heads. She pats Aaron on the shoulder affectionately, then gestures at the old man impatiently. “Let’s leave these two to talk.” 

When they’re alone, Jackson looks down at his hands, and then back up at Aaron with a bashful look on his face. “Well?” He asks, nudging Aaron’s fingers with his own. He looks eager, but like he’s holding it back, in case of rejection. “What do you think?” 

“Well, it’d make seeing each other a lot easier,” Aaron hums. He’s pretending to think about it, but every cell in his body is screaming yes. He knows what he wants, and it’s _this_. “So… If you’re up for it, then may as well.” 

“Guess that makes us colleagues, then,” Jackson says, a dazed yet happy grin spreading over his face. He grabs a hold of Aaron’s hand and tangles their fingers, and this, Aaron thinks, this is what they call the honeymoon period.

He just doesn’t want to think about what this will do to his and Robert’s friendship.

.

Jackson settles in just fine. He gets on well with everyone – he slots in with Aaron’s family like he was always meant to be there, and even Victoria loves him. Sure, they both gang up on Aaron sometimes, but he doesn’t mind all that much. It’s nice to see them getting along.

Robert- well, Robert tolerates him. There’d been a conversation that was full of poorly hidden worry, about living arrangements and what Jackson moving meant for the future, but they’d sorted it without any major arguments, and that was the best Aaron could hope for. 

(“So… What now?” Robert asks. They’re spread out across both sofas, Aaron’s feet next to Robert’s head, watching Narcos again. Jackson had travelled back home for the weekend, to pack the rest of his stuff, and then he was driving back down on Monday. “What happens to – this?” 

“What do you mean?” Aaron asks with a frown, reaching over to pause the television. This is a conversation that needs to be had without the telly blaring in the background.

“Are you moving out of the trailer?” Robert says, shifting so he’s laying on his stomach. He looks at Aaron with careful eyes, and his mouth is a thin line. “Are you going to be moving in with Jackson?” 

Obviously, they’d talked about it. Had all the necessary conversations and then decided that it was a little too much too soon. Yes, they’d be working together, and seeing each other every day, but living together was a step that neither of them was ready to take. They weren’t even sure if they could stand each other for that long, yet.

“No, I’m staying here,” Aaron says slowly, pronouncing each word. This conversation could be too things: Robert _wanting_ him to move out, or Robert not wanting him to go anywhere. Obviously, if it’s the latter, he’d respect his best friend’s wishes – but he hopes it’s not. “If that’s all right with you?” 

“Of course it is,” Robert says, huffing out a laugh. He looks relieved, and all the tension has left his body, so he lowers his head back down. “I just thought you’d be sharing with him from now on.” 

“Nah, he’s travelling with the lackeys,” Aaron says, grinning. Of course, he’s joking, but Jackson’s brand new official job role is mostly building the big top every week. “Needs a trailer for all the materials, don’t he?” 

Robert had laughed properly then, and rolled over to press play on the tv. Something had settled in Aaron’s heart, too, and he found himself relaxing enough to doze off.

Things are good right now. Why bother changing them?)

Of course, Jackson was here to work, and he was definitely earning his keep. He’d gone from simply putting up the big top every time they were in a new town – and saving Cain and Sam a hell of a lot of time – to maintaining, well, just about everything that needed it. He said he didn’t mind, because it paid well, and it was an adventure.

But the big top is still his main priority, and that’s where had Aaron left him this morning. It’s a big job, usually taking up most of the day, and Aaron can’t hang around for that long, can he? He has plenty of shit to do, too.

The point is, it’s not unusual for Jackson to be working alone, just him and his radio. Everyone works alone most of the time, because they get an awful lot done that way. It’s pretty much the only way things get done.

What is unusual… is the scream that pierces through the air, coming from that Jackson’s very direction. 

Aaron hears it first. Well, he probably doesn’t, but that’s what it feels like. The scream is horrifying, to put it frankly, blood curdling and making Aaron sick to his stomach. He doesn’t know what has happened- except, he does. He can feel it.

He _knows_.

He drops the apple he was slicing for the horses the very second he hears it, and runs. Pure, simple running, as fast as his legs can take him. They probably don’t even keep up with how fast he’s going, but that isn’t going to stop him.

There’s no hesitation, nothing to make him stop and wonder exactly what the noise was. He doesn’t need to wonder, because deep in his gut, something is telling him that he needs to get there, and he needs to get there _now_.

He’s the first one to arrive on the scene, but he almost wishes he wasn’t. The ladder is on the floor, several rungs splintered from the impact of falling, and there’s tools scattered about. They’ve come from Jackson’s belt, which is half hanging off, splayed to the side.

Jackson, Aaron’s boyfriend Jackson, who is laying on the floor. Face down but not moving, apart from his shoulders, which are rising with the shallowest breaths. He’s not moving. He’s not _moving_ , and he’s- he’s laying in angle that’s too awkward to be natural.

That’s when Aaron’s body decides to go into flight or fight mode, and he freezes. Stares at the sight of his boyfriend, at the blood that’s pooled by his head.

And.

Does.

Nothing.

“Aaron!” Robert’s voice calls. He’s only a couple of metres behind, sprinting to catch up, but he sounds like he could be miles away. Like Aaron’s under water, and Robert’s shouting from the surface. “What’s happened?” 

He skids to a stop next to Aaron’s stock still body, a gentle palm between the younger man’s shoulder blades as he takes it in. Sees if there’s any damage on his best friend, then looks down at Jackson with a sharp intake of breath. 

Robert drops to his knees in front of Jackson’s head, lowering his body to check if the unconscious man is still breathing. He is, judging by the way Robert’s shoulders sag with relief, and he glances up at Aaron as he continues with basic first aid checks.

Stuff that Aaron didn’t do – stuff that he wouldn’t know _how_ to do.

“I think- I think he fell,” Aaron whispers, voice thick with emotion. He doesn’t know what happened, wouldn’t even dare to hazard a guess, but he does know one thing: Jackson might die.

Jackson _could_ die.

“Cain, ring an ambulance!” Robert barks as he places his hands either side of Jackson’s head to hold him still. He looks up at Aaron with sadness in his eyes, offering him a warm smile. “Why don’t you come here and talk to him, yeah? I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Aaron nods, crouching to his knees with small, jerky movements and – talks. About nothing, and everything, whatever pops into his head. Tells Jackson about the postcard Hazel sent, and the horses. Anything that Jackson normally likes to hear, the mundane things; the domesticity. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the paramedics to get there; it feels like forever but it could only be ten minutes. Not even that. They let him stay where he is while they talk to Robert, one asking questions and another securing Jackson’s spine, but eventually he’s pulled away.

Pulled away, and into Robert’s arms, the older man wrapping him up in a tight hug so he doesn’t have to see the blur of yellow jackets working on his boyfriend. It’s- nice, actually, to be able to bury his face into the warm patch of skin between Robert’s neck and shoulder, letting out all the sobs he held back when he was talking to Jackson.

“Who’s coming in the ambulance?” A paramedic asks quietly, looking genuinely sympathetic when Robert pulls himself away from Aaron. She glances between the two of them, biting her lip, then stares at the back of the ambulance where Jackson is being stretchered on. “I’m afraid we’ve only got room for one person.” 

“You go, yeah?” Robert says immediately, extracting himself entirely from Aaron’s grip. He still keeps a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, though, a small reassurance. “Me, your mum, and Paddy will follow the ambulance. We’ll be there when you are, I promise.” 

“Alright,” Aaron says, but he’s not really sure what he’s agreeing to. He lets the paramedic guide him to the back of the ambulance with a hand on his arm, and he’s pretty sure she’s telling him things that are supposed to make him feel better, but he doesn’t take any of it in.

It’s all a daze. The entire ride is unmemorable, just blurs of colour and flashes of sound. The sirens are on and the lights are bright enough to give him a headache, and that, he thinks, is probably a bad thing – but then the thought is gone as soon as it came, when they’re pulling up to the hospital doors.

They rush Jackson off straight away, talking a mile a minute about surgeries and spinal fractures and other medical terms that Aaron can’t work out, and then he’s left there.

Alone.

With nothing but his thoughts.

“Aaron?” A voice says. It sounds fraught but warm all the same, familiar enough that he turns and buries himself into the person for a hug, breathing in their scent. It’s his mum, Chas, someone he knows. Someone who loves him. “Where is he?”

“They took him for surgery,” he mumbles, words muffled. She strokes a hand through his hair, warm and comforting, then leads them to the uncomfortably hard plastic chairs. “They haven’t told me anything yet.”

Chas hums quietly, nothing more than an acknowledgement as she sits them down. Aaron glances up, sees Paddy biting down on his thumbnail, and then Robert, watching him with wet eyes.

Well, they’re all here.

The only thing that’s left to do now is wait.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron’s smiling more – apparently. He doesn’t notice it, but Robert does, and he likes to mention it. He mentions it a lot, actually, usually with a teasing undertone and a well placed poke to the ribs.

He’s only smiling more because he feels better. Ever since he made the executive decision to stop thinking about Gordon, something in his chest felt a little looser, and it hurt less to breathe. That man had already taken away too many years of Aaron’s life; he’s not letting him take any more.

Sure, he might be carrying the weight of Robert’s secret now, but that’s nothing, really. All it means is that he knows when to interject a conversation, when to steer Victoria in a different direction to one that involves talking about Jack.

Robert is endlessly grateful, but he doesn’t seem to realise that Aaron would carry the weight of the world for him.

“You know, you seem better,” Liv comments, barely looking up from her sheet music. She tries to aim for casual, but Aaron knows her too well – knows that it’s anything but. She worries, his sister. She worries way too much than a fifteen year old should. “Happier, I mean. You’ve not been yourself the past few weeks.” 

“I feel better, Liv. You don’t need to worry,” he says, ignoring the inquisitive tone in her voice. He knows she has questions because she always does, and he’s not going to answer them. Not about this. “Now, show me what you’ve been working on.”

That works to shut her up, cheeks flushing bright red as she rolls her lips between her teeth like she needs to keep her mouth shut.

“It’s nothing,” she says, but her voice is a little too high pitched to be believable. She hates playing for Aaron – and Robert, for that matter – but somehow she seems to be able to get on stage every night. She says it’s different, but Aaron can’t see it. “Nothing special, anyway.”

“Er, everything you do is special,” Aaron says, knocking her side gently with his hip. She shifts up the piano bench, albeit with the roll of her eyes, so he can sit and start thumbing through the sheet music. “Come on, show me how talented my baby sister is.” 

Robert takes that very moment to slip through the door, raising his eyebrows at Aaron and Liv sitting there. He takes slow steps, then pulls himself onto the stage, resting his elbows on the piano.

“Right, I have to go,” Liv says quickly, clearly spying her opportunity and grabbing it with both hands. She gathers all the sheet music that’s spread across the top of the piano and, with one last glance back at Aaron, practically trips over herself in her haste to get out of the tent.

“What did you do that for?” Aaron asks, staring wide eyed at Robert in disbelief. It’s not that he means to put Liv on the spot like that – he’s just proud, okay? He never got to see her grow into the young woman she is today, so he’s making the most of it now.

“Please, Aaron,” Robert snorts, rounding the piano and sitting in the space Liv vacated. He settles comfortably, pressed against Aaron shoulder to shoulder, putting out heat like a radiator. “I could feel her embarrassment from _outside_.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Aaron argues, but it’s weak to his own ears. Maybe he’ll just have to wait until Robert’s gone into the nearest town for clothes to corner Liv again. He just wants to shower her with praise. 

They sit in silence for a minute, and then two, companionable and comfortable. If he had nothing else to do, Aaron wouldn’t mind spending all day like this – the air still around them, counting the pattern of Robert’s breathing.

It’s a nice break from reality.

“You wanna tell me what’s up?” Robert asks, cutting through the silence like a knife. His words make something in Aaron’s head go blank, because: _he knows? How does he know? How has he found out?_ “Because I know you said you were fine, but something has been keeping you awake at night.” 

Aaron breathes a sigh of relief. It’s getting ridiculous now, he thinks. Getting paranoid over something that’s logically impossible is a step too far. He needs to calm down before he breaks, and tells everyone anyway.

“It’s nothing,” Aaron says, keeping his voice soft so Robert doesn’t start demanding answers. He knocks his shoulder against the older man’s. “There was something playing on my mind, yeah, but I’m over it now. I just want to forget about it.” 

Robert’s silent for a second, like he’s processing Aaron’s words in his mind. It’s nerve wracking, waiting, and it definitely makes anxiety flare up in Aaron’s stomach, but he holds his breath.

And waits.

“If you’re sure,” Robert says eventually. He doesn’t look entirely convinced but enough so that he’s going to drop it, and Aaron smiles at him gratefully. It’s true; he wants to move on now, repress it like he’s been doing for the last thirteen years.

It never did him any harm before – and his mental health is better now, anyway. He’ll be fine. He’ll survive. 

He always does.

“But, if I find out you’ve lied to me, there will be consequences,” Robert says, trying to come across as threatening. He’s about as intimidating as a mouse, and Aaron can’t help the laugh that pushes out of his chest, even worse when Robert grabs him by the sides and start tickling him.

This, he thinks through fits of laughter. This is what he wants to spend his time on. This is what’s important.

  


  


  


  


  


  


“How the fuck am I supposed to tell him that?” Aaron asks angrily, as soon as the doctor has left the family room. He slams his palm against the wall, lets the sharp pain take over his body for a second, and then turns back to his family. “How do I tell my boyfriend that- that he-?”

Chas is looking at him with wide, wet eyes, but she’s frozen to the spot, hands clenched in her lap. She clearly doesn’t know what to do – that makes two of them. 

And Paddy is no better, either. He looks like he’s more with it than Chas does, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if to offer a suggestion, but no words come out. He clearly has nothing to say.

“I know it’s hard,” Robert says. He stays where he is, doesn’t approach Aaron, and the younger man is grateful. He doesn’t want to be touched, because he doesn’t know if there’s anything that could comfort him right now. “But you just need to – say it. There’s not another way, is there?” 

Aaron knows there isn’t. He’s not good with words and he never has been, and this is definitely isn’t the time to start trying it. But he has no other choice. He can’t be tactile – it’s not like Jackson would _feel it_ , anyway. 

“Come with me?” He asks the room at large. He doesn’t care who it is, he just needs someone. Something, so he doesn’t feel overwhelmingly lonely. Moral support, he thinks it’s called. “Please. I can’t do this alone.”

The room stays silent.

If there’s one thing on this earth he knows, it’s Robert, and that’s why he understands that he keeps his mouth shut. The older man will be waiting for one of Aaron’s _actual_ family members to step up, but.

But they don’t, so Robert sighs, and takes a step forward.

“I’ll come,” he says quietly, shooting a glare back at Chas and Paddy. They both look sickened with shame or maybe even guilt, and Aaron knows that one day he’ll be able to look back on this with understanding, but today is not that day. “Come on. You go first.” 

They’ve been in this hospital for days, close to a week. Aaron wouldn’t know because it all blurs into one, but Robert had told him this morning. He hasn’t left for more than ten minutes, and that’s only to get some air when Robert forces him to.

The nurses are all lovely, he’s found, and they all take pity on him. That’s fine – it’s the one time he doesn’t mind it, because it means they let him take a shower every morning and bring him meals. 

Jackson had been in an induced coma; something about his brain swelling and his body needing time to repair, and they’d only brought him round this morning. He looked heartbreakingly confused until he’d set eyes on Aaron, and then just simply relieved.

And that was the last time Aaron had seen him, because he had been ushered away to let the professionals do their jobs. He knows that they’ve been putting through Jackson through all kinds of tests, but he didn’t know what they were.

Until now, that is.

Now, he understands.

Robert follows him to Jackson’s room in silence, only the sounds of their footsteps and machines beeping from wards between them. That’s another thing that had thrown Aaron of: Jackson had been given his own room, and that could never be a good sign. 

When Aaron peers through the window, something in his chest loosens. His boyfriend is hooked up to less machines than he was before, and his eyes are following the doctors’ and nurses’ every moves.

How can a man that aware be so trapped at the same time?

“I’m gonna stay outside, alright?” Robert says from behind Aaron, shocking him out of his trance. The younger man doesn’t even turn around, just keeps watching the movements though the window. “I’ll be right here.”

Aaron nods, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. He needs to do this now, because it isn’t going to go away. He can’t sleep it off, and wake up pretending everything is fine.

This is lifelong. This is a disability. 

“Hiya,” he says softly to Jackson as he steps into the room. He smiles gratefully at the nurses as they begin to pack up the equipment they use for tests, and waits until the room’s clear until he sits down. “I’ve, erm… I’ve got some bad news.”

“Can’t be any worse than this, can it?” Jackson says, rolling his eyes. It’s just about the only thing he can do – apart from turning his head to look at Aaron. “Go on then, spit it out.” 

“Jackson-“ Aaron says. He stops himself, feeling panic restrict his throat as he wipes away the few stray tears that have fallen. This is the last thing he ever expected from his first relationship. “You’re not going to walk again.” 

“Wait – what?” Jackson says. His eyes track every movement of Aaron’s face as he frowns, like he’s trying to work out if this is a sick joke. “You mean until the fracture heals, right?” 

“No,” Aaron breathes, rubbing his eyes roughly with the heels of his hands. He wishes that was all he meant, wishes that he didn’t mean it at all, but it’s already been said now. No point in sugarcoating it. “No, I mean… You’re never going to walk again.”

Jackson’s breath hitches in his throat, on what sounds like a sob, but he turns his head so Aaron can’t see. He doesn’t understand; why is he trying to hide? Why now, when Aaron’s bared his soul down to the very last inch, and put his heart on the line for his boyfriend?

“Could you go, please?” Jackson says. He’s trying to sound strong, but his voice wavers on every other syllable. “I just- I just want to be alone.” 

Aaron doesn’t think that’s a good idea, but who is he to argue? He’s not the one who just found out he’s never going to walk again. So he pushes himself to his feet, and leaves without another word.

Robert is waiting for him, having watched the scene play out through the window. He looks concerned, devastated and sickened all at once, but he still catches Aaron in his arms when the younger man’s legs give out. 

“I didn’t want to,” Aaron says, between his sobs, clinging at Robert’s shoulders to keep himself upright. Robert is rubbing his back soothingly, small circular movements. “I didn’t want to tell him, I swear.” 

“I know, Aaron,” Robert whispers, leading Aaron with shaky steps to a quieter corner of the corridor. He doesn’t let go of his best friend once, just keeps murmuring reassuring things into his ear. “I know.” 

.

 

For the next few days, everything is going as well as it could, considering the circumstances.

Aaron is in a little bubble of _hospitalJacksonphysiohospital_ , so he doesn’t really know what’s going on elsewhere. Robert updates him the best he can when he visits, but it goes in one ear and out the other, so he stops bothering after a while. 

Instead, he just sits there, a quiet supportive presence next to Aaron as he cries out that day’s stress. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t need to – him being there is more than enough. He had tried to visit Jackson on the first day, but that didn’t end well. 

(“You didn’t even like me when I could walk,” Jackson spits, turning his head so he can stare at Robert with an icy glare. His mouth was turned up into a snarl, and if Aaron didn’t know any better, he’d say Jackson was on the verge of attacking the younger man. “So why are you here now? Fuck off.”

Robert did.)

His accident had made him cruel. It’s not his fault, that’s what Aaron keeps telling himself. He’d be the same. Angry at the world and everyone around him. Can’t feel pain so he’s inflicting it on other people. 

He’d stopped lashing out at Aaron after the first few times, realising that it was pointless when Aaron had just sat there and asked what he wanted for tea. Of course, the younger man had gone and cried until his throat was raw afterwards, but he hid it well enough. 

Now, they mostly sit in silence. It’s comfortable, mostly, but sometimes, when Jackson is feeling particularly furious about the way the world has treated him, it’s awkward. Awkward enough that Aaron makes his excuses and escapes for a while, sometimes. 

Jackson’s been a little better today. Quieter, sure, but if he wasn’t hurling insults around, Aaron liked to count it as a win. He’d eaten his breakfast and drank a cup of tea with no major fussed, and then he’d had a nap.

It was perfect timing, really, because Robert texted as soon as Aaron was slipping out the room, and he’d met Aaron in the visitors room with a crushing hug – the kind that reminded Aaron of who he is. 

“He seems a bit less angry today,” Aaron comments, keeping his eyes on his feet even though Robert’s are trained on the side of his face. “I don’t know – lighter, maybe?”

“Well that’s a good thing, right?” Robert says. He’s leaning back on the shitty plastic chair with an arm stretched across the back of Aaron’s, somehow still looking like a model even here. “He might be coming to terms with it.” 

“I hope so,” Aaron says, offering Robert a weak smile. It’s probably a little presumptuous, or too good to be true, but he’ll take anything that makes the next few days easier. “We need to start talking about living arrangements soon. God knows he can’t come back to the circus, so he’ll have to move back in with his mum.” 

Robert seems to hesitate for a second, thumb finding Aaron’s shoulder and rubbing small circles. “And you’ll be going with him?” He asks. Aaron can’t work out the expression he’s wearing from the corner of his eye.

“I’ll have to,” Aaron says, but it’s tinged with sadness. The thought of leaving his circus family behind strikes fear right into the very core of him, but he needs to look after Jackson now. He can’t just abandon him to gallivant around the country shovelling horse shit, can he?

A blanket of sadness drapes over the room then, mixed with something like resignation, but as soon as Robert opens his mouth to reply, a blur of people in scrubs rush past the window. They’re saying stuff like _patient coded!_ and _room twenty one_ , and Aaron’s palms start sweating.

“That’s- that’s Jackson’s room,” he manages to get out through a dry mouth, and then he’s on his feet, sprinting down the corridor along the route he knows off by heart now. 

A nurse stops him at the door to Jackson's, telling him he can’t go in there, but that’s not going to stop him, it’s _not_ , so he tries to push past her.

But it’s Robert that stops him, with both arms around his shoulders and crossed over his chest, pulling him backwards and against the furthest wall.

“Aaron – Aaron!” Robert hisses directly into his ear, keeping younger man firmly back to chest even though he’s struggling in his grip. “Come on, you need to let the nurses do their job! He’s in good hands!” 

“Not good enough!” Aaron spits. There’s tears streaming down his face as he watches through the window. He can’t take his eyes off of it, off of the nurses giving Jackson CPR. 

They keep going for what seems like forever, stepping back to shock him every few seconds, but it doesn’t work. The heart monitor stays flat, giving out a long, low noise, and Jackson stays deadly still.

It’s not working. Why isn’t it _working_?

He knows what’s happening as soon the nurses step back and read out the time. He knows, but that doesn’t mean he has to believe it, and he takes advantage of Robert’s shock-slackened grip to make a run for the door and into the room.

It’s real, then. It’s really real.

Jackson is dead. 

Aaron falls to his knees, sobbing, just as all the colour fades out of his world.

  


  


  


  


  


  


They’re busy tonight. They’re always busy, really, but tonight, it seems worse. It’s probably because it’s the first Saturday of half term, so there’s kids running about screaming, and harried adults rushing after them.

Harried adults means a busy bar, and Chas and Faith are rushed off their feet. As soon as he comes off stage after their performance, Lisa grabs him, pushing him towards the bar outside the big top. 

It could be worse, though. Andy and Robert had both been roped into flipping burgers and frying onions, and Aaron knows what he’d rather be doing. 

They’re just about ready to start packing away for the night, and there’s only a few stragglers left hanging around, so Chas officially closes the bar. 

“Mum, can you pack up for me?” She asks Faith, offering her her sweetest smile. Aaron knows all about that: it’s been used on him way too many times, and the worst thing is, it works. “I want a word with my boy.” 

He knows – _thinks_ – that he hasn’t done anything wrong recently, so he’s hoping it’s not going to be another Dingle bollocking. He’s too old for that shit now.

“Come on,” Chas says, taking his hand. She leads him back to the two chairs that are set in the shadows, sitting down but not releasing his hand. She’s smiling at him fondly, warmly. “Make your old mum happy.” 

“What’s up?” He asks, leaning forward in the chair. He’s a little concerned now, because she never does drags him away with a purpose – they live their own lives, sure, but they’re still a family, and they still catch up at the end of the day. 

“Nothing,” she says, but her eyes are a little glassy. That smile’s still on her face, but it’s morphed into something nostalgic now. “You know, a few weeks ago marked six years since you’ve been at this circus.” 

“I know,” Aaron says. A small, fond smile of his own quirks his lips upwards without his say so, but he doesn’t try to hide it. He woke up that morning, feeling blessed and so relieved that he’d spent six whole years away from that pathetic thing he called a life. “Best thing that happened to me.” 

“Me too,” Chas says gently, sniffing subtly. Her eyes are wet as she looks at him, and then her hands come up to cup his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, Aaron.” 

She sounds like she genuinely means it, voice filled to the brim with awe and pride, and it makes Aaron flush bright red. He doesn’t try to knock her hands away because he knows better than that, so he ducks his head instead.

“Give over,” he says, grinning bashfully as Chas wipes a stray tear from his cheek. He waited so long for his mother’s approval, and now he’s finally got it – it’s the best feeling in the world. “I was a little shit when I got here.”

“Yeah, you were,” Chas agrees with a laugh, and Aaron can’t help but join in. She drops her hands but uses them to grip his instead, and shifts closer to him. “But you turned it round, didn’t you? You turned into the amazing, loving, thoughtful man that I know today, and that’s all down to _you_.” 

Aaron stays quiet, because he doesn’t know what to say. He thinks about her words, but he doesn’t agree – not entirely. She’s the one who made him this way; with her tough love and her unwavering support. Her and Jackson, and then Robert, always careful when he needed it, harsh when he deserved it. 

“You’re my son, but the only person you’ve got to thank is yourself,” she says. Her eyes are sparkling with the words and their meaning. She’s clearly been thinking about this for a few days, and now it’s all spilled out. He doesn’t want her to ever take it back. “And I’m lucky that you’re my son. I love you.” 

She stands and pulls him up by the hands, before curling her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. She barely comes up to his chin, and she can probably feel the wetness from his eyes on her hair, but she doesn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, she pulls him even closer.

This is it, this is the moment he’s been waiting for since he was eight years old and alone. His mum, holding him like she means it, and saying words that he’s only ever dreamed of. Telling him that she’s proud and that she loves him, things that he used to imagine in his head. 

This right here, is exactly what it means to be happy.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Aaron’s trapped in a bubble of grief, dulling every single thing he can see. He doesn’t mind all too much, because if he can feel the grief, it means he’s still alive – at least he’s feeling _something_.

So he clings to it like a comfort blanket, wrapping it around his body and protecting himself from the world. Sure, it means he’s walking around like a zombie, taking everything in yet nothing at the same time, but it’s the price you have to pay.

He doesn’t even know what’s going on with his family. The grief makes him selfish, but no one can call him out on it. Not when he’s still sobbing himself to sleep every night, or dreaming of Jackson telling him that it’s all his fault.

Besides, he’d rather be selfish than numb.

He’s not entirely sure how long he’s in his little cocoon of self pity; it’s probably around a few weeks but it feels like it could be forever. He wants it to be forever, because he doesn’t want him to know how it feels to move on. He can’t even remember who he was before Jackson.

And in situations like this, it takes something big – something important – to shock you out of it. Not that Aaron’s aware of that. Not until it happens, anyway.

The thing is: Robert. That’s what pulls him back into himself. As if he should have expected any different.

“Rob?” He asks quietly, voice hoarse from too little use over the past however many weeks. He still feels like he’s on autopilot, _waking up and eating and sleeping and eating_ until it all rolls into one, but the sight of Robert sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees as he stares into space, kickstarts something in his brain. “Is everything alright?”

Robert doesn’t reply, doesn’t even look up. It’s a surprise to Aaron because ever since the accident, he’s been hovering, constantly checking if Aaron’s okay. Even when the younger man was shut off to the rest of the world, he was there, gently pushing Aaron back into normality.

“Robert?” He whispers, sitting on the edge of the couch next to Robert. He takes a hold of Robert’s left hand gently, pulling it away from his chin. That’s the only thing that snaps the older man out of it, and he smiles waveringly at Aaron. “What’s happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Robert says, but it’s too quiet to be believable. It’s so much unlike him, that somehow, Aaron manages to shed the grief, just for a few minutes, so he can focus on Robert. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me.” 

“Don’t say that,” Aaron says, shifting his body so it’s angled at his best friend. He’s drifting past worried and into concerned now, and he bites at his lower lip, trying to ignore all the awful thoughts that are racing through his head. “I want to help you.” 

Robert seems to hesitate, mouth dropped open the tiniest bit like he was about to say something and then changed his mind. He looks at Aaron from underneath his lashes, and there’s something so sad about him in that moment that it knocks the breath right out of the younger man’s lungs.

“It’s… it’s stupid,” he says. Aaron’s about to argue, to tell him that nothing that upsets him could be stupid, but he closes his eyes and it’s enough to shut Aaron up. “Leo died this morning. I went to feed him and he was just laying there.” 

“That’s awful,” Aaron says. He feels shocked to the core. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that, and he feels genuinely terrible for Robert. “I am so, so sorry.”

“I told you it’s stupid,” Robert says, but he sounds like it’s anything but. He smiles appreciatively when Aaron wraps an arm around his shoulders, and leans into the touch. “I know he was old, but I still didn’t expect it.” 

Aaron hums in response, lost for words. He knows better than anyone that your life can change in a second, that everything you love can be ripped away from you just like that. And yeah, maybe it _is_ a different kind of loss to Aaron’s but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. He tells Robert as such.

Robert doesn’t reply; just buries himself further into Aaron’s embrace. It feels like the comfort they both need – one that the younger man has only just accepted. It feels nice, to be able to lean on his friend. He didn’t know if he was allowed before this.

“What are you going to do now?” Aaron asks quietly, carding his fingers through Robert’s hair. It’s a question he’s been asking himself for days, weeks, even. He’s done nothing to help out around the circus since… since Jackson died, and no one seems to be telling him to.

But the one thing he’s taken from this whole sorry situation is that life is too short. He _wants_ to do something, to contribute to his family’s livelihood, to just… make something of his life. 

Something that Jackson would be proud of him for.

“I don’t know,” Robert says, sounding so uncertain and vulnerable that it makes Aaron’s heart clench. The older man pulls away from the embrace to take Aaron’s hand instead, and looks at him with a weak smile. “But we’ll figure it out, won’t we?” 

Of course they will, Aaron thinks. They could get through anything – as long as they have each other.

.

“Come on,” Robert’s voice says from somewhere in the darkness, ripping Aaron’s duvet off his body. He’s cold almost straight away, a chill settling into his bones as he brings his knees up to his chest and groans. “I’ve had an idea – get up!” 

“Robert,” Aaron whimpers pathetically, turning onto his back to try and appease the older man. It doesn’t work, and Robert keeps shaking his shoulder excitedly. “It’s still the middle of the night.” 

“It’s six o’clock, Aaron,” Robert says. His shakes have turned more into shoves now, to the point where Aaron has to roll onto his feet to stop himself from falling out of bed. “You’ve had plenty of sleep; it’s time to get up. Come on.” 

The glare that Aaron fixes on his face doesn’t stop Robert, who’s now shoving a pair of jogging bottoms and a long sleeved t-shirt at Aaron. Whatever this is about, he seems determined to do it, and god knows you can’t stop an excited Sugden when they set their mind on something. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asks when he’s shoved his feet into his trainers and Robert has pushed him out of the door. It’s still pitch black, darkness rolling over the field, and it’s fucking _freezing_. The early morning air is bitter, making the hairs on Aaron’s arms stand on end. “Where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Robert says, grabbing Aaron’s hand and guiding him in a different direction. He’s smiling secretively, glancing at Aaron coyly from under his eyelashes, but above it all – he looks like an excited child on Christmas morning. “We’re here!”

They come to a stop outside the big top, Robert pausing so abruptly that Aaron knocks into his back. It’s dark enough that the tent is barely visible from where they’re stood a few metres away, only lit up by the fairy lights that hang from the inside frame.

It should make Aaron feel sick. It did, at first, because he knows more than anyone how dangerous the big top can be. He could still hear the scream, see Jackson’s body all bent and broken, and so he refused to step foot anywhere near it.

But it doesn’t feel like that now. Robert has stopped vibrating with excitement and is staring up at the tent with awe in his eyes, and Aaron, well, he can’t help but feel the same. A comfortable calmness washes over him, something that makes him feel like he’s been waiting for this his whole life.

Something that tells him that this is where he belongs.

Robert steps through the door wordlessly, and Aaron is compelled to follow. He doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s not this: trapeze bars, hanging high and low from the metal bars that hold the tent up, and a blue crash mat underneath. 

“What’s this?” Aaron asks, but it’s barely a whisper. He doesn’t want to breathe too loud because he’s scared he’ll destroy the peace that’s settled over the set up; between the trapezes and the fairy lights, and the soft music that’s playing out of Robert’s phone.

“I was helping Zak clear out one of the storage trailers and I found these,” Robert says, pulling himself onto the stage. He walks up to the bars and runs his fingers along the metal gently, looking back at Aaron with a smile. “They were Donna’s before she had April, and they’ve not been used since.” 

“And – you want us to try it?” Aaron asks. He can’t stop himself from pulling a face, because he seriously can’t see Robert on the trapeze, let alone _himself_. “We’re not exactly acrobatic kind of blokes, are we?” 

“You could do anything if you put your mind to it,” Robert says immediately, crouching on the edge of the stage and offering his hand out. Aaron takes it, pulling himself up, but stays stood where he is, arms crossed across his chest self consciously as he watches Robert move. “I think we’ve found something we can both do.” 

“Sure you’ve got the upper body strength for it?” Aaron says teasingly, finally managing to unstick himself from the spot and following Robert. He curls his fingers around one of the bars hesitantly, thinking about all the things he’s seen on telly. 

“Belle’s offered to give us some pointers,” Robert says, completely ignoring Aaron’s words. He hooks his hands around the lowest bar, swinging roughly seven foot above the ground, and lifts himself until he’s sitting on it. “Go on – try it.” 

It seems absolutely ridiculous. How is Aaron meant to swing from bar to bar, flying through the air, on body strength and trust alone? It seems like it defies the laws of gravity, but.

Robert is right, as much as he hates to admit it. 

Seeing the trapeze bars, and imagining himself performing every nigh? It just _fits_.

He tightens his grip on the bar as much as he dares, stretching up onto his tiptoes. Slowly, he pulls, soaking in Robert’s gentle encouragements, until his arms are stretched below him and the bar is at waist height. Then, using his last bit of energy, he swings his leg over and sits, opposite Robert.

“You did it!” Robert says, reaching out and clasping Aaron’s hand. He’s looking at the other man with awe in his eyes, a flush high on his cheeks and excitement vibrating through his body again.

Aaron can’t help but mirror Robert’s position and laugh, because he did it, he _did it_ , and it was- it felt like he was free.

For the first time since Jackson died, he feels like himself again, and he doesn’t want the feeling to ever end.

“Go on then,” he says, staring down at their linked hands and then back up again. Robert’s still looking at him, a grin on his face, and it grows even wider as he hears Aaron’s words. “I suppose it won’t hurt.”

Aaron Dingle and Robert Sugden: trapeze artists.

Who’d have thought it?

  


  


  


  


  


  


There’s something special about the circus when they’ve closed up and everyone’s gone home. They’re usually riding the high of performing still, drinking and messing about. 

It’s Aaron’s favourite time of the day.

He finds himself sitting off to the side, watching. He’s tired; a nightmare had woken him up well before six and their routine had seemed a little more exhausting than normal, but he’s too wired to go bed.

Instead, he watches Robert and Liv. They’re both wide awake, had begged him to join in and pouted when he refused – because they’re both fifteen year old girls, obviously.

But they seem like they’re having plenty of fun without him. Robert is cartwheeling across a patch of grass, narrowly avoiding kicking just about everyone that gets too close in the face. Aaron’s told him that his legs are too long to be doing shit like this, but he never listens. 

Liv is a lot better at it, truth be told. Robert had sulked for all of five seconds because _a girl who isn’t even a trained acrobat is better than me, Aaron! We’ve been doing this for years!_ but he seems to have gotten over it.

Well, almost. Aaron’s pretty sure that he’s just started adding more complicated moves to the short routines to try and prove he’s better.

He’s about to go save his little sister from the madness that is Robert Sugden’s competitiveness, when there’s a hand on his shoulder as Paddy sits down in the chair next to him.

“Alright?” The older man says. He scrutinises Aaron’s face for half a second, then follows his gaze to where Liv and Robert have collapsed into a fit of giggles – tickling each other. “Ah. They seem happy.” 

“They are,” Aaron says with a smile, not taking his eyes off the pair. For a while, it didn’t seem like Robert and Liv would ever get on. They bickered and snapped at each other, and it usually ended in tears, but they seem to have grown out of it. Now, it’s mostly playful arguing.

The problem was that Liv wanted Aaron all to herself. it was understandable; she’d just seen her big brother for the first time in seven years, and she was half terrified that if she let him go, he’d disappear again. He’d reassured her countless times that he wouldn’t, but he still caught her crying a few times afterwards.

And then there was Robert. For so long, all Aaron and Robert had had was each other. Their friendship was unconditional and _forever_ , and during the times that their family relationships were fraught, they still had each other to go home to at the end of the day.

Robert didn’t seem to understand Liv’s side of things. He was trying to compromise, sure, letting Aaron loose to spend time with his sister, but he’d snapped when he’d come back to the trailer, three nights in a row, to find Liv sitting on the sofa even though it was way past eleven.

It had taken a few weeks and more than a few chats with both of them until they started to begrudgingly put up with each other, and then – somehow, shockingly so, they’d grown close. Robert had never told him what happened, but Aaron knew he’d been there for Liv when it was something family couldn’t help with.

“And you’re not?” Paddy asks, snapping Aaron out of his thoughts and back into real life. He’s looking at the younger man knowingly, clearly waiting for him to open up. “You should be over there with them."

“I’m just tired,” Aaron says. It’s not a lie but it’s not quite the truth either, and it slips off his tongue easily. Paddy seems to buy it, anyway. “I’m happy watching.”

“You know, you’ve really landed on your feet here, Aaron,” Paddy says, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes Aaron realise he’s not talking about his sort of son anymore. Instead, he’s watching Rhona, gossiping with Vanessa, until she turns and gives him a wave. “When you join this circus, you never realise how good it’s really going to get.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says. It’s easy to agree, because Paddy is right – it might have taken a few (extremely shitty) years to get to this point, but he’s here now, and he’s not going to let another second pass him by. “It’s such a bubble here, isn’t it? You just feel… so cut off from the rest of the world.”

“And nothing can ruin that,” Paddy says, patting Aaron on the knee clumsily and standing up. He offers one last smile at the younger man, then looks at Robert and Liv, who are now sitting with a bag of candy floss between them. “And hang on to them. Cherish it.” 

In any other situation, those words would feel ominous. But here, right now?

It just makes Aaron’s heart swell with happiness.

  


  


  


  


  


  


It takes close to six months of practice before they even start thinking about performing on stage.

Zak had been made up about it, telling them that it was exactly what the circus had been missing, and he’d even roped in Vanessa to help them become more flexible.

Flexible meant yoga, stretching, and warm up exercises; six am starts and early nights. It was frustrating and painful and Aaron might have stress cried once or twice, but it was so, so worth it.

The first time he’d fallen off the trapeze, his body had frozen. There was so many thoughts running through his mind; about Jackson and falling and being paralysed, about what the older man must have thought when he was falling through the air, and how he felt when he woke up to realise he’d lost everything.

It had taken him a long time to push that panicky feeling aside. Robert had brought him cups of tea and a blanket to help, but he was shaking for what felt like hours. He’d cried until his throat was raw, pushed up against Robert’s side while the older man comforted him, and then tried again as soon as he calmed down.

Somehow, it made him even more determined. 

They had set a date for the first performance, and now, it’s steadily approaching. Tomorrow, in fact, and Lisa had some new posters printed that stated **a brand new performance! the wonderful trapeze!** , even though Aaron had begged her not to.

It didn’t help his nerves in the slightest, and he’s spent all day shaking with the prospect of it. He’s never performed anything to anyone in his entire life – and now he’s twenty years of age, and he’s going to be swinging from the trapeze every night. 

Guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.

“You know you need to relax,” Robert says. He’s sat back calmly, stretched across an old wooden palette that’s been abandoned backstage. “You can’t perform properly if your body’s all tense.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Aaron mutters, tugging on the tight collar of his t-shirt. This was the closest he was getting to a costume; that and the makeup. He doesn’t even know if he’s conformable performing yet. “You’ve got enough confidence for the both of us.” 

“Exactly!” Robert says, lifting himself from where he was sitting and approaching Aaron. He’s grinning easily, not a single sign of nerves on his face, and he gestures at the younger man. “Turn around.” 

“What?” Aaron says. He’s not proud of the grumbling tone, but he’s not in the mood to be messed about. Still, he can’t deny Robert anything, so he does what he’s told. “What you doin’?"

“I told you,” Robert says, voice gentler now. He places his hands on Aaron’s shoulders and digs his thumbs in, right on the sweet spot at the base of Aaron’s neck, like a massage. It _is_ a massage, and he’s good at it.

Aaron feels the stress in his spine melt away instantly, and his head drops forward to give Robert better access to his muscles. It’s like nothing matters: not the bright lights, or the chatter from the other performers around them, or the excited cheers from the crowd from the other side of the curtain.

In what seems like no time at all, Charity’s voice booms across the big top, demanding a round of applause for the last act, and then introducing the next one.

This is it, then. No turning back.

Robert uses his hands on Aaron’s shoulders to spin the younger man round to face him, and smiles at him reassuringly. He still doesn’t look nervous – just looks like he belongs exactly here, with all the attention on him.

“Good luck, kid,” he whispers, knocking his knuckles against Aaron’s chin gently. The fingers of his free hand squeeze, just once, and then let go entirely. “Not that you’ll need it, obviously.”

And then he takes Aaron’s hand, leading him around the curtain and to the stage, where the bright lights wait and Tonight Tonight by The Smashing Pumpkins starts to play.

To a place where they can finally be free.

.

“Aaron?” Vic yells from across the field. Her voice carries through the dark night, ringing out across the open space, and Aaron shushes her as he jogs over. She’s going to wake everyone up if she carries on. “There’s someone here to see you!” 

He pulls a face, because who does he know this side of Manchester? He honestly has no idea, but they must know _him_ , so he approaches the figure sitting at the picnic bench, armed with a load of questions.

Something makes him stop, frozen to the spot. It’s a girl, she looks like she’s only about thirteen, with long blonde hair and a scowl on her face, but there’s something in the way she’s sitting. Something that he recognises in that hardened face and hunched shoulders.

“Do I know you?” He asks hesitantly. Vic’s still hovering at his elbow, peering up at him curiously, but he doesn’t pay any attention to her. He’s still trying to figure out who this girl is.

“Is that any way to treat your sister?” The girl says, and something punches Aaron full force in the chest – _Liv_. It’s his baby sister, grown up and here in the flesh.

He hasn’t seen her since he ran away from home, and he never expected to. To be honest, he didn’t even think she’d remember him, let alone bother to hunt him down. But now she’s here, and waiting to see him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks eventually, licking his dry lips when the words come out hoarse. He’s entertaining the idea that Gordon sent her, to try and drag him down again. It seems more than likely.

Vic disappears after Liv and Aaron stare at each other for a little too long. He can’t help it; that’s his _sister_. She’s _here_ and she’s here for _him_ , and she’s… so big. Grown up. Almost an adult.

“Got sick of mum,” Liv admits, casting her eyes to the ground. She clearly broke first, which shouldn’t make Aaron feel better, but it does, because… Gordon didn’t send her, not if she’s got a face like that. “Couldn’t find dad, but I thought you might be a better bet.” 

“You watched the show?” He asks, ignoring what she said about their dad. The man doesn’t even deserve that title, but Aaron’s not going to tell her why. At the very least, he’s glad that she couldn't find him. “You like it?”

“It was alright,” Liv grants, but there’s an almost excited look on her face. She’s biting her lip to hide a smile, wringing her hands in her lap, looking at Aaron from underneath her lashes. “Didn’t take you for that kind of bloke, though.”

“Gay or a trapeze artist?” Aaron asks. He’s mostly musing out loud, not really thinking about what he’s saying, but he doesn’t miss the shocked look on her face. “‘Cause I’m both.” 

Liv just shrugs, but there’s a small smile on her face that shows she really doesn’t mind. Not that he’s going to pander to her – he is who he is, and he won’t change that for anyone.

“Aren’t you going to show me where you live, then?” She says, making a show of wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. “It’s freezing out here.”

He rolls his eyes, but gestures for her to follow him anyway. He may as well get this over with, considering her mum should be picking her up soon. And anyway, Robert can help entertain her until she does.

“Well, this is it,” he says, throwing the door to the trailer open and letting her step inside. It’s nothing special, really, but it’s the place he calls home, and he’s proud of it anyway. “This is where the magic happens.” 

“It’s… it’s certainly something,” Liv says, hesitating as she looks around. Her eyes stop on Robert, who’s sitting on the sofa playing on his phone. “He your boyfriend?” 

“I’m not his boyfriend, no,” Robert says with a sigh, locking his phone and throwing it on the couch next to him. He looks at Liv with a critical raised eyebrow, then at Aaron. “Who’s this, then?”

“Robert, this is my little sister, Liv,” Aaron says. It’s more than a little awkward – he’d only told Robert that he had a sister once, and then refused to mention it again. “Liv, this is my best friend, Robert.” 

“Glad that’s over,” Liv mutters, then starts walking around the small space of the trailer, glancing at everything curiously. 

“Do you want a brew before your mum picks you up?” Aaron asks. There’s something suspicious about Liv’s silence and the tense line of her back, and Aaron sighs. “She does know you’re here, right?” 

“Not exactly,” Liv says, still keeping her back to the two men. She’s pretending to look at a poster on the wall, but nobody is _that_ interested in Shawshank Redemption. “But I doubt she’s even noticed I’m gone.” 

“Oh my god,” Aaron whispers to himself, pressing his palm against his forehead. Robert looks like he’s torn between amused and pained, but not like he’s about to jump in and help. “Right, ring her now.”

It takes a few more minutes of back and forth until Liv actually calls her mum, but she was right – Sandra doesn’t even sound that bothered that her fifteen year old daughter had caught two trains and a bus to find her long lost brother.

She even agrees that Liv can stay with them for a day or two, just _to get it out of her system_. Aaron’s hoping that she soon realises the circus life isn’t all glitz and glamour, because truthfully, she seems like a little tornado. An unstoppable nightmare. 

But deep down, his gut feeling is that Olivia Flaherty is going to be sticking around for a long, long time.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


The first thing that Aaron notices when he wakes up is the tension in the air. It feels cold, goosebumps rising on his arms, but it’s not _physical_. It’s more like… there’s evil around. 

It’s a ridiculous notion, he knows that, but it seems to follow him everywhere. It’s cold fingers stroking up his spine when he’s eating his breakfast, a frozen feeling in his mind when he’s practicing for that evening’s show.

He doesn’t mention it to anyone else, but it seems like he doesn’t have to. There’s an eery kind of quiet settling over the campsite like a blanket of fog, making people stare at the floor and respond to questions with monosyllabic answers. 

Even Liv seems affected, picking notes on the piano that sound dark and foreboding. She doesn’t acknowledge him when he comes into the big top, just frowns down at her fingers and carries on playing.

Robert feels it, too, but that could be a direct influence of Aaron’s mood. He’d been concerned when the younger man had woken up in a cold sweat, and even more so when he couldn’t explain it.

It wasn’t like he’d had a nightmare, or anything – he’d slept soundly, dream free the entire time. That was unsettling in itself, because he couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t dream. That was a part of his personality, spending most mornings laughing over his ridiculous dreams with Robert.

He goes through the day on autopilot. It’s their first day in a new town, somewhere a little too close to Hotten for Aaron’s liking, but he puts that thought out of his head and focuses on helping Cain set up.

And he stumbles a few times during practice, because his mind is too blank to be aware what he’s actually doing. Robert frowns at him and asks if everything is okay, but he doesn’t have an answer. Not one that makes sense, anyway. 

Because it’s not, but there’s no reason for it not to be. And when things feel like that, they must be okay. It's a black and white question, no grey where he can wave it off. He’s either okay or he’s not, but the thing is, he doesn’t know which fits him best right now. They both feel like a suit that’s one size too small, suffocating around the shoulders and strangling at his throat.

But you can’t solve a problem without knowing the root cause of it, so he does what he does best: pushes it to the side and stares resolutely ahead, and keeps moving _forward_.

The day passes both slowly and quicker than he realises, and before he knows it, he’s sitting backstage. Waiting for Charity to announce their names is always a certain kind of torture, but Robert never stopped the mini massages after that first time. They help more than Aaron likes to admit.

It takes until they’re halfway through the routine when he starts to realise what that feeling really is. He’s swinging down to a lower bar when he catches the flash of a glimpse in the audience; sinister eyes and a sickening grin.

But it can’t be, can it? There’s _no fucking way_. He’s imagining things, he must be: low lighting and long shadows, the fact he’s hanging upside down all playing tricks on his mind.

That’s all it is. A mirage.

He’s sweating more than usual by the time they finish the routine, and Robert shoots him a worried glance as they clasp hands and take a bow. But Aaron ignores it – he doesn’t want to talk about what he saw, so he escapes out the back exit of the big top and rakes deep breaths into his lungs like a dying man.

It’s not hard to hide. Not once he’s found a huge oak tree, branches casting shadows that cover his body. He takes time, all the time he needs, sitting with his back against the rough trunk and remembers how to breathe.

By the time he’s starting to feel calmer, he realises how unlikely it is. He talks himself down from the edge that he’s standing down, stops staring at the drop below him. There’s no point in falling, falling, falling. Not when it wasn’t real.

“Aaron?” Robert asks, squinting his eyes in the darkness as he approaches the younger man’s hiding spot. Truthfully, Aaron was about to unfold his limbs and go join his family’s so he doesn’t mind all that much. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, offering Robert a smile as he gets to his feet. It’s not a lie – but it would have been if Robert had found him ten minutes ago. “What’s up?” 

“Paddy asked me to find you,” Robert says, but he still sounds uncertain. He places a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, somewhere between comforting and steering him. “Wouldn’t tell me why, but it’s something to do with your mum.” 

It’s probably nothing, Aaron thinks. Maybe it was busier than it seemed tonight, maybe she needs help with the bar. Spectators seem to crawl out of the woodwork, out of nowhere, some nights. 

And she is at the bar, but she’s not serving. She has a hand wrapped around a beer pump, leaning forward as she talks to someone. She seems engaged in this conversation, whatever it is, with this unknown man.

Aaron can’t see his face, but that exact shade of hair is uncomfortably familiar. The way he stands hits too close to home, too, but Aaron can’t quite place him. 

Until Chas spots him with a pointed finger, and the man turns around, that is.

“Alright, son?” Gordon Livesy says. Aaron’s living and breathing worst nightmare, stood in front of him with that trademark smirk fixed in place. “How have you been?” 

It makes Aaron feel sick, makes him want to heave until his throat is bleeding and his stomach aches, until his eyes are watering and his head hurts from the force of it. Instead, when he turns to leave, all that happens is he almost knocks Robert off his feet.

“Jesus, Aaron!” Robert breathes, curling his hands around the younger man’s biceps to keep him in place. He must look awful, eyes wild and breathing heavily, but Robert just keeps looking at him, searching his face. Aaron hopes he finds whatever he’s looking for. “Calm down!”

“Let me _go_ , Robert,” Aaron mutters, trying to struggle away from his best friend. It doesn’t work, because Robert just holds him closer, even when someone pushes past Aaron and knocks him closer. “ _Please_.” 

He’s trying not to make a scene because he’s hyperaware of Gordon’s gaze burning into his back. He can only imagine the look on his face, self satisfied and smug, and it makes him want to run even more. 

“Is that really any way to treat your father?” Gordon says from behind him. It sounds mocking, like he’s trying to taunt Aaron into smacking him, but he won’t rise to it. He won’t.

He just needs to get away.

“Stay away from us!” Aaron snaps, spinning on his heel to face Gordon. He can barely see through the tears that are blurring his vision, but he doesn’t miss the shocked look on his mum’s face. “I mean it! _Stay away_!” 

And with that, he finally breaks free from Robert’s grip, pushing through the heaving crowd until he’s certain he can’t be seen. With one last panicked glance around him, he breaks into a sprint; directionless and vacant.

Nobody follows him.

.

Chas doesn’t mention it. Neither does Robert, actually, but that’s probably more to do with the fact that Aaron kicked off the first – and only – time he did. It’s a smart move, keeping his mouth shut. That’s what Aaron had told him, anyway. 

Aaron just wants to forget about it. Seeing Gordon… it had brought up some truly awful memories, ones that had triggered nightmare after nightmare after nightmare, and that’s the last thing he needs.

He’s finally, truly happy. Why would Gordon try and ruin that after all this time?

Miraculously, Liv doesn’t find out about the visit. That’s more to do with Aaron threatening half of his family, but he meant every word he says. He’ll protect his sister, even if it ends up killing him.

But the point is – it quietens down. Nobody mentions Gordon and he doesn’t come back, and that’s all fine for Aaron. More than fine, actually. It’s exactly what he wanted, and now it’s time to put it all back in that awful, blackened box at the back of his mind and carry on like normal. At least, that’s what he intends to. 

His intentions are ruined one boring Thursday evening. Aaron’s looking forward to the night off, because all these nightmares and sleepless nights have started to catch up with him. He’s exhausted, running on two hours sleep and dragging himself through life like a zombie. It’s not healthy and it’s definitely not safe, but he hasn’t got any other choice.

The plan is to beg Vic to make him a huge plate of a burger and chips, eat enough that he’s bordering on the verge of a food coma, and then get in bed and watch telly until he falls asleep. It’s a plan he’s had for days, one he’s been looking forward to since he woke up, and he can’t wait to put in action.

That’s the only reason he’s probably a little more chipper as he leaves his trailer. It’s just about getting dark, a dusky blue sky settling overhead, and there’s a chill in the air, but the thought of food and sleep warms him.

What he hears, though, is enough to make his blood run cold.

“You’re coming tonight, yeah?” Chas says. Her voice is hushed as she speaks into her phone, and her eyes keep darting around her, like she’s trying to avoid someone. “I’ll let you know when Aaron’s turned in for the night.”

It takes him half a second to realise why Chas is planning on meeting someone, and doesn’t want Aaron around – and then it hits him all at once, everything he’s been trying to ignore.

“Me too,” Chas says in response. She’s stopped looking around and there’s a smile on her face now, but Aaron hangs back. He needs to make sure that he’s got this right before he confronts her. “I’ll see you later, Gordon.” 

And that’s it. That’s all Aaron needs. 

He steps out of the shadows just as she’s tucking her phone back into her pocket, mind in overdrive. He’s squared up but he can’t help it, because she _promised_. She said she wouldn’t, and Aaron believed her, didn’t he?

That’s what makes him the biggest fucking idiot going.

“Are you serious?” He says, voice hoarse. He wanted to yell, but he doesn’t quite have the strength. She seems shocked to turn and see the tears in his eyes, but Aaron doesn’t let her get another word out. “I trusted you!”

“Aaron – he’s not that bad,” she says, trying to be placating, but she’s the exactly the same as Aaron. Her rage is quiet, masked as something a little like frustration. “I know you had your problems when you were a kid, but he’s not like that anymore!” 

“You don’t know him!” Aaron shouts. It comes from somewhere deep inside him, a place that he didn’t know existed, and he wipes his tears away roughly. Chas doesn’t even seem bothered. “You don’t know what he’s capable of!” 

“He’s your _father_ , Aaron,” Chas says. She sounds bored, like she’s tired of explaining it to him, but she doesn’t _get it_. That man isn’t Aaron’s father. He lost all privileges to that title the minute he laid a finger on him. “Doesn’t he deserve a second chance? God knows you’ve had plenty!” 

Those words cut right through Aaron’s body, to the very core. They hurt worse than any blade ever could, and he feels the force of it. Did she just… Did she just compare him to _Gordon_? Did the compare the things he’s done to the things Gordon has done?

He wants to be sick.

Before he can get any words out, or even think of some kind of reply to his mum, Paddy is skidding to a stop beside him. His face is red like he’s been running, but when he touches Aaron’s elbow, the younger man moves away. 

“Woah, woah, what’s going on?” Paddy asks, looking between the two of them suspiciously. But he’s glancing at Chas questioningly, and giving Aaron the side-eye – so it’s obvious who’s side he’s going to take. “Everyone can hear the two of you shouting."

 _Good_ , Aaron thinks. _Let them. Let them know what kind of man Gordon is. Let them know wha kind of a mother Chas is. Let them all know._

He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“Aaron is trying to stop me from seeing Gordon!” Chas snaps, her frustration finally bubbling over. She looks like she’s half a second away from stamping her foot, but she manages to keep it contained. “I can’t deal with this!” 

He contemplates shouting after her as she storms away, something about her parenting, probably, but one look from Paddy has him silenced. 

“Why do you have such a problem with your dad?” Paddy asks, moving to stand in front of Aaron. His voice is soft, like approaching a scared animal. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Aaron says. The tears are still coming, even faster now Paddy has asked that question, but he wipes them away. “He’s just – not right for her.” 

“But shouldn’t she get to decide that?” Paddy says. In any other situation, he’d be the voice of reason, but here, right now, Aaron just wants him to fuck off and take his nose out of other people’s business. “You need to give him a chance!” 

Aaron fixes him with a steady look, eyes hard and mouth a thin line. “I will never, ever do that,” he says, sincerity in his tone. 

He’s never meant anything more. 

.

It feels like he's in a trance. The world around him is carrying on, still spinning and still living, but all that Aaron can see is focused down to this very moment in this very room.

It wasn't difficult to get his hands on something that could take the pain away. Smash up the plastic coating of Robert's razor and throw it away so no one will notice, then feign indifference and buy him a new one the next time they're in town.

He doesn't _want_ to. No, it's the last he thing he wants, but he needs to take the pain away. Just a little something to take the edge off, to stop his thoughts just long enough that he can sleep.

He stares down at the razor blade in his hand. This is it. This is what he needs. 

He takes a shaky breath and wipes away the tears that have tattooed red marks onto his cheeks, blinking. Draws in another, and turns the blade over, before bringing it to his arm.

And Robert takes this as the perfect moment to stumble through the door.

His cheeks are flushed red from the cold, but they turn an even deeper shade when he sees what Aaron is doing. He looks somewhere between furious and devastated, eyes wet already.

“What are you doing?” He asks, sounding both hopeless and helpless. His expression is vacant, Aaron notices, crushed and lost, but he doesn’t feel guilty for it. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Aaron snaps, turning his back on the older man. As if he didn’t know, couldn’t deduce it from the entire fucking picture in front of him. Aaron’s past isn’t exactly a secret. “Leave me alone, Robert.” 

“What, so you can cut yourself to shreds? I don’t think so,” Robert hisses, stepping in front of Aaron. He’s back to looking furious again, in a determined kind of way, as he holds his hand out. “Give me it.” 

“What? No!” Aaron says, curling his hands around the razor. He can feel it cutting into his palm, wetness spreading on his skin, but it isn’t stinging. 

“Aaron!” Robert yells, out of breath even though he’s been stood still. He knocks his open palm against Aaron’s closed fist harshly. “Give it to me!” 

His tone shocks Aaron enough that his fingers fall loose, enough for Robert to snatch the razor. He feels ridiculously empty then, an aching loss in his stomach, but he can’t bring himself to move as the older man storms out of the trailer.

It’s not long until he returns, a few minutes that feel like hours, but his hands are empty and the furious expression has drained from his face to leave something awfully upset.

“Why are you doing this?” Robert asks, almost desperately. He follows Aaron to where he’s sitting on the sofa, perching on the edge of the coffee table opposite. “Aaron, please. What’s happened?” 

“It’s nothing, Robert,” Aaron says. There’s a begging undertone to his voice, one that he hates, but he’s going to use whatever works right now. “It’s nothing for you to worry about – just _leave it_.” 

“Of course it’s something to be worried about if you’re cutting yourself over it!” Robert snaps, then drops his face into his hands and runs his fingers through his hair. When he comes back up, he takes a deep breath, looking a little calmer. “Is it your dad?” 

“No!” Aaron says. It’s a knee jerk reaction, one that’s obviously a lie, and Robert sees that, too. He frowns, leaning forward to take both of Aaron’s hands.

“Aaron, I promise you, you’ll feel better if you just talk about it,” Robert says, voice low and soft. His expression has changed to something so earnestly open that Aaron almost spills it all there and then. “And I won’t tell anyone. I just want to help you.” 

There’s a thin silence, stretched out like a rubber band and about to snap at any moment. Aaron knows that Robert can’t help him – not with this – but for a split second, he wants to believe that he can.

Maybe, just maybe.

“He hurt me,” Aaron chokes out eventually, hating the way his voice breaks. It’s not a lie but it’s not the truth – just a major downplay of what really happened. Robert doesn’t seem to notice, though. 

“He hit you?” Robert asks, oblivious. He doesn’t look like he’s going to take the piss, or tell Aaron to get over it – he leans a little closer, thumbs stroking over the younger man’s knuckles. “What – he beat you?” 

“No,” Aaron replies, wiping his wet cheeks with his sleeves. He’s already said too much, already regrets what he did say. “No, forget it. Leave it.” 

“Staying quiet just means he’s won,” Robert says, still leaning forward. His face is deadly serious now, sincere but no less determined, and Aaron knows that he won’t let it drop. “Is that what you want?” 

“Of course not,” Aaron tries to snap, but it comes out as half a sob. He wipes his face roughly again, but the tears are coming thick and fast now. “He raped me.” 

An awful kind of silence descends upon them, like a thick fog. It’s eerie, with only the sounds of Aaron’s hitched sobs and Robert’s deep breaths, but it’s still too loud, too much. It still makes Aaron want to run.

Robert leans back, letting out something that’s between a sigh and an inhale. He looks dazed, like he’s just been hit round the head with a brick. Like if this was a cartoon, there would be stars spinning around his head.

To his credit, he doesn’t run as far away as possible. Anyone else would, so that must be a sign. Instead, he lets go of one of Aaron’s hands, wiping his palm down the thigh of his jeans and rubbing his fingers across his forehead.

“Alright, that’s…” He says, blowing out a long, low breath. He turns his head to the side a fraction, and then back at Aaron. His eyes are half-lidded, impossible to read, but Aaron isn’t even sure if he wants to. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

“How can you say that?” Aaron asks, looking up at his best friend’s shell shocked face. A part of him, a small but loud part, expected Robert to have all the answers. To be able to make it better. Instead, he just looks as lost as Aaron feels. “It’s never going to be okay.” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Robert says, reeling like he’s just realised how stupid that was. He leans forward again, elbows resting on his knees, if only to give his body a bit of support. “How old were you?” 

Aaron doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t think of anything but. The past few days, he’s been replaying it, over and over and over until every detail is burned into his mind.

It shouldn’t be this easy to relay it.

“First time, I was eight,” he says, trying to curl up and make himself as small as possible. He still doesn’t let go of Robert’s hand, though, tightening his grip like it’s a lifeline. Like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him going. “Mum had just left, I’d been playing up for weeks because I missed her. I just remember… crying, and taking it out on him. I didn’t know what happening, but he said it was all my fault. He was punishing me.” 

Robert shifts on the spot, like what Aaron’s told him is uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable – that’s the wrong word. Aaron knows the weight of it better than anybody, so he doesn’t blame Robert. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He asks quietly, gaze taking in all of Aaron’s face.

“Because he said that if I told anyone, it’d happen again. But if I was good, it wouldn’t,” Aaron says. He can still remember those words; can remember the way his skin was crawling then, the same way it is now. It makes him feel sick. “But he said if I started being good, then it wouldn’t – and I tried so hard to be good.” 

He’s overcome with a fresh wave of tears, like a fist squeezing around his lungs and blurring his vision. He can’t speak through it, not just yet, because he doesn’t recognise the gasps that are coming out of his mouth.

He suspects Robert is almost grateful for the break, anyway. He’s never told anyone, but he can’t imagine it’s easy to hear – and Robert needs time to process it, doesn’t he? 

When the silence has stretched on for a little too long, it becomes- awkward, almost. Intense and suffocating, and there’s something in the lines around Robert’s mouth that shows he’s struggling to find something to say.

“You said the first time…?” He says eventually, looking at Aaron from underneath his eyelashes. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, his nose, and then subtly, his eyes. “Did it happen again?” 

“Everything went back to normal, for a while. He pretended nothing had ever happened and I started to think I’d dreamt it,” Aaron says, sniffing as he wipes his face again. He doesn’t miss the look of disbelief on Robert’s face, the one of shock and disgust, but he closes his eyes to try and push the image away. “And I tried… I really tried… But you can’t be good forever.”

Robert’s mouth drops open, just slightly, like he’s about to say something, but then he swallows. “What happened?” He asks quietly, thumb slipping further up Aaron’s hand to brush over his wrist.

“I wasn’t even eleven,” Aaron says. He can’t keep the pure resentment out of his voice, the hatred. It’s so complicated, everything that he feels because of _him_ and _this_ , but at the very core of it all, is pure hatred. “I’d gotten in with the wrong crowd, thinking I was the big man. Skipping school and talking back. Sandra told him he couldn’t cope with it, and he told her he’d get me back in line… I knew exactly what he was going to do.” 

“I’m so, so sorry, Aaron,” Robert says. Those words feel wrong, like they should be reserved for a loss, spoken only at a funeral. Not here, not in this awful situation – but what else _can_ you say? 

“Next time it happened I was twelve,” Aaron says, ignoring Robert. Now he’s started telling someone, spilling all his secrets like bile, he can’t stop it. Let them all fall out, one by one, until the whole place is painted black. “Sandra tried to stop me going out with my mates, and we got into an argument. I was awful; calling her all sorts… I broke my sister’s favourite doll. And that night… I should have been able to stop him-“

“You were just a kid," Robert says quickly, like he’s keen to stop any of those thoughts from spreading in Aaron’s mind. It doesn’t work, because he’s been thinking them for years. They’ve festered and grown, until they make up the entire body of him.

“I just felt dirty and ashamed, but I kept quiet and promised myself it’d never happen again,” he says. It feels like it’s getting easier now, maybe. Like his jaw has relaxed and he can finally talk about it. “A few years later, Sandra caught me nicking some booze and we argued. The look on his face… I knew it was going to happen again. I could see it. So I lashed out, and I hit Sandra. After all that time, I hit the wrong person – what kind of a bloke does that make me?” 

He doesn’t expect Robert to reply. It’s not the kind of question anyone can find an answer for, but Aaron forgot who he was talking to for a second. Robert has an answer for everything.

“One who’s had to deal with stuff for too long,” he says. His free hand grips Aaron’s again, both thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles on the back of his knuckles, and, surprisingly – it works. A calmness washes over Aaron’s mind, one that helps him carry on. 

“He kicked me out, and that’s when I came here,” Aaron says, glancing up at the ceiling. He remembers that day like it was yesterday. “Best thing he ever did. Part of me wanted to tell my mum, but I knew she’d only blame herself.”

“She’d have helped,” Robert argues, because he doesn’t understand, does he? He hasn’t ever had a mother like Chastity Dingle – most people haven’t. She’s… She’s not like normal mums, and Aaron’s grateful for it, but… Not here. Not like this. “She loves ya!” 

“It doesn’t matter. I’m out of there now,” Aaron insists, because it’s true. He is. He’s no longer trapped in that tiny house with that awful man. He’s here, right now, living his life with his best friend and baby sister. He just- he needed to get this out. That’s all it is. He’ll be fine tomorrow. “I can’t tell her, and neither can you.” 

Robert thinks about it, but Aaron knows what he’s going to say. He trusts Robert enough to know that he won’t tell _anyone_ , let alone Chas, but he still breathes a sigh of relief when Robert nods.

“I’m so- glad you told me,” Robert says, but he stumbles over the word glad. He finally releases Aaron’s hands but only to get up and fill a glass with water, offering it to the younger man with shaky hands. “It can’t have been easy, carrying that for so long.” 

Aaron takes it with a weak smile, but doesn’t agree with Robert’s words. It was the hardest thing he’s ever done, and he wishes he feels like people say it does – light, he thinks. He still feels as dirty as ever.

Robert sits down next to him, watching him carefully as he drinks the water in long, slow sips. His throat feels raw from all the talking, all the crying, and his head is pounding. He also just knows that Robert will go all mother hen on him if he doesn’t drink it. 

“Come here,” Robert says eventually, ending with a sigh. He opens his arms slightly, an invitation, and Aaron accepts it gratefully – he wants to be close to his best friend right now, to know that he’s not scared Robert away. “You’re not on your own now, not anymore.” 

It’s pathetic, probably, but it makes the vice grip around Aaron’s heart loosen a fraction. That, and the scent of Robert’s aftershave at the base of his throat, where Aaron has buried his head. He stays there for what feels like days, and cries until there’s nothing left. 

And Robert holds him through it, tightly, the entire time. 

.

Robert treats him differently. Not bad but – careful, mostly. Bringing him cups of tea and his breakfast in bed, always checking if he’s okay. That sort of thing. It’s not unwelcome, really, but Aaron is already counting down the days until things can get back to normal. 

He knows, objectively, that things can never be normal again. What he told Robert, it’s an awful thing to unload. Nobody should truly have to hear it; nobody should have to put up with it.

But Robert has and Robert does, because that’s what he’d do for Aaron. He’s hold him countless times that he would go to the end of the world and back again for him, but this is the first time Aaron’s ever truly believed it. 

Besides, it’s quite nice having a little housemaid. Breakfast in bed is a true luxury that he doesn’t get often, and Robert had cancelled their part of the show for a few days. Nobody had even batted an eyelid when he’d said that Aaron had come down with the flu. 

“Aaron,” Robert says, with a touch of hesitance. That’s the way he always talks to Aaron now; carefully and quietly, like speaking too much is going to break him. “I know you said you’re not going to tell your mum, but… When are you going to report him to the police?” 

“Er, I’m not,” Aaron says. The questions has taken him back a little, because that was never in the plan. No police, not ever. It’s not something he even entertained. “I’m not telling them.”

“Why not?” Robert asks. He looks bewildered, like a deer that’s been caught in the headlights, because he _doesn’t understand_. And he never will, Aaron thinks. 

“Because I can’t put myself through it, alright?” Aaron says, anxiety rippling up his spine. He hates to admit that he’s not strong enough, but that’s the thing – he’s not. Definitely. Over and done with. “I’m not- I couldn’t handle it going to court.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Robert says firmly, as if those poxy words are going to make a single bit of difference. He must be living in a dream world. “Of course you could do it – don’t you want justice?”

“What, going through every single detail of the times my dad raped me, over and over again?” Aaron asks, watching Robert shrink back a little. Good. He wants the words to be uncomfortable, wants Robert to _feel_ it. He’s been feeling it all by himself for far too long. “No thank you.”

“But what if he comes back?” Robert asks, easing himself onto the sofa next with Aaron. His entire body is angled at the younger man, one leg settled under him and the other stretched out. “What if he thinks, because you haven’t said anything, that he can worm his way back into your life? And your mum; doesn’t she deserve to know what kind of man she’s been seeing?” 

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Aaron says through gritted teeth, curling his fingers into fists and digging his nails into his palms. The pain grounds him for half a second, but then it’s not enough. “Because he’s not coming back. He _won’t_ be back here.” 

“And you’re one hundred percent certain of that, yeah?” Robert snaps. This sarcasm is the first time he’s sounded anything close to normal since Aaron told him, and it’s- it’s nice. “You’re gonna play bodyguard twenty-four seven?”

“ _Robert_!” Aaron yells, when the thoughts in his head get too much. Gordon is creeping into all of his memories, inserting himself into every shadowy corner of the circus. He can’t let that happen. “Just leave it, please!” 

“Your mum will keep seeing him, you know,” Robert continues. He follows when Aaron stands up, two feet behind him like a bad smell. Matches the pace of his footsteps, all the while still talking. “And the rest of them will probably take him in, too.”

Aaron throws the door open with a harsh bang, cold air against his skin like a slap in the face. It brings him back down to earth, feet planted firmly on the ground, but- but something else sends him right back up again.

When he looks across the field, he can make out the outline of his mother. She’s not alone; she’s smiling and laughing, her hand resting on Gordon’s arm. And he looks like butter wouldn’t fucking melt. It’s the perfect time for Robert to say I told you so, but he keeps quiet. Just stands behind Aaron, breathing harshly and unevenly. 

It’s nice to see that the sight fills him with rage, too.

He reaches across Aaron and pulls the door shut, but the younger man doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands clenched into fists and stares at the dark wood. The scene is still playing out in front of him.

He can’t do it. He can’t keep quiet. Robert was right; Chas deserves to know what kind of man she’s letting into her home. Because anyone that could do _that_ to their own son…

“Okay,” He says quietly, hanging his head. He’s hyperaware of Robert standing behind him, eyes watching his every move. 

“Okay?” Robert asks uncertainly, but he must know what Aaron’s referring to. It was his idea; his insistence. He knows. He just wants conformation.

“I’ll tell her,” Aaron says, finally turning to face Robert. He never expected to do this – never even expected to get as far as telling _anyone_ , but that’s the thing, now. He’s told one person, felt the weight it lifted from his shoulders, and now he wants to tell everyone.

Everyone who cares about him, that is.

“I’ll be there,” Robert says, reaching out and placing his hand on Aaron’s bicep. He strokes the material of the younger man’s t-shirt, thumb brushing lightly, and Aaron has to will his entire body to not lean into the touch. He doesn’t know when he became so dependant on another person. “When you tell her.”

“No, I need to do this alone,” Aaron says. His voice is a little stronger now; he feels like he’s taken all of Robert’s strength. All that he’s prepared to give him, anyway. “Thank you, though.”

“Always,” Robert says, offering a crooked smile – and the sound of blood rushing in Aaron’s ears finally stops.

.

Aaron turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling until he sees nothing but dull grey and peeling paint. He can't sleep; it's too hot and the sheets keep twisting round his legs, his shirt is scratchy and Robert's breathing too loud. Sam’s snoring from four trailers over and he can hear Victoria’s music.

It's not that he doesn't want to sleep, not how people keep saying he’s not trying. Quite the opposite, in fact - he's begging for it, mind exhausted and limbs heavy. All he wants is a deep, uninterrupted sleep, to forget everything just for a few hours.

But Aaron's never been that lucky.

"You okay?" Robert asks quietly, voice cracking through the silence like a bullet. Aaron turns his head and catches the tail end of the older man's wince, because isn't _that_ a stupid question. Aaron can't remember the last time he felt completely okay.

Still, Aaron nods anyway, mouth stumbling over an affirmative. It's just easier to say he’s fine, isn’t it? And Robert's already heard more than enough of his problems. Already heard the sickening details, the breath that catches in Aaron's throat, the harshness of his sobs. 

"I need air," he says suddenly, several sharp gasps pulling breath into his lungs. The oxygen stabs and scratches in his chest, like it's trying to get back out again, but he won't let it. He needs to survive this. He _has_ to.

For Chas and Paddy. For Victoria. For _Robert_.

(Because the last one is the most important).

He stumbles out of bed and down the trailer to the door, tripping over discarded shoes and Robert’s paint-splattered trackies as he goes, but it doesn’t stop him. Nothing can stop him, he can’t let anything stop him, can’t get distracted. Because he needs to go. Needs to get out, to silence the voices in his head and the itching in his fingers. He wants something sharp, to break skin and spill blood, crack bones and form bruises-

“Aaron,” Robert says from behind him, close enough that a whisper could be heard but not close enough that his body heat can be felt. Aaron’s grateful, because he thinks that he’d just break if Robert touched him. Break into a million tiny pieces, and no one could put him back together again. Not even all the king’s horses and all the king’s men. “Come on, breathe with me.” 

Robert’s voice drones on behind him, counting out loud in time with his own breathing. It washes over Aaron like a comfort, like a safety blanket heavy over his mind and shoulders, like all those nights Robert’s left hand reached out and his fingers tangled with Aaron’s.

“Alright?” Robert asks quietly, once the younger man’s come back to himself. He’s on the floor, dew dampened grass smearing mud onto the knees of his jogging bottoms. He’ll need to do a laundry run, he thinks, but he also knows that’s the least of his worries right now – considering he barely remembers dropping to the ground. “Can I touch you?” 

Aaron nods, a tiny dip of his head that most people would miss, but Robert sees it. He always sees it, always seems to be watching Aaron (especially now. Now, he watches more than ever), always ready for the next move. 

His fingertips swipe across the back of Aaron’s neck, a feather-light touch, like if he’s too hard then the younger man will shatter like glass right in front of him. “Is this okay?” Robert whispers, inching closer on his knees. The wet sound of dirt shifting is enough for Aaron to cling to, to drag him not quite kicking and screaming out of the dark parts of his mind. 

“Yeah,” Aaron confirms, barely a breath, rolling his shoulders as Robert’s palm curves around his neck. His grip is tight - not enough to bruise, but enough to keep him grounded so he doesn't float up, up, and away. "Thanks, Rob."

"It's okay," Robert says, shuffling round on his knees to face Aaron while still keeping a hand on his skin. His features are schooled into a serious expression, mouth downturned at the corners and eyes transparent. "I'm always here for you. You know that, yeah?"

Aaron smiles, a little shaky and forced. "I know," he says, discreetly shrugging off the older man's grip. He doesn't need it anymore. Doesn't feel like there's helium clogging up his veins. "Sorry I woke you."

"Couldn't sleep anyway," Robert says. There's a reassuring smile tacked onto the end that Aaron knows is entirely for his benefit, but it's still a nice touch. He appreciates it, the generosity. "I'll be back in a minute."

Robert stands with a groan, knees cracking as he straightens up, but the smile is still firmly in place. And Aaron wants to say something, anything, just to break the tension of the moment, but it doesn't come. Normally, he'd be cracking jokes about Robert's age, but his throat has closed up and his tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth.

The older man disappears back inside the trailer, and the blackened part of Aaron's mind is saying one thing: _he's left you_. But he breathes through it, breathes the way that Robert told him to earlier.

One, two, three; out. One, two, three; in.

"Shift," Robert says, nudging Aaron's thigh with his foot. He spreads a picnic blanket out, the one they'd bought down south when they had a free day and the rolling hills of Surrey to explore. Aaron doesn't even know where it was hidden - explains why Robert's out of breath, given all the shit he’d have to dig through to find it. 

"What are you doing?" Aaron asks, even as he crawls onto the blanket and sits cross legged. The plastic backing crinkles as Robert dumps himself down unceremoniously, landing in a heap of long limbs and ungraceful movements.

Sometimes, Aaron doesn't know how Robert manages on the trapeze. He's seen the older man trip over his own feet more than once, but somehow he makes gliding through mid air look effortless.

"Watching the stars, obviously," Robert says. The roll of his eyes is audible in his tone, but he sounds fond nonetheless. He lays back against the blanket, and he must be a little chilly in nothing but a t-shirt and trackies, but he doesn't show it. Just smiles at Aaron expectantly, and pats the space next to him.

Aaron follows suit, relaxing against the soft material. It's good, this blanket, Marks & Spencer's finest, because he can't even feel the damp grass through his t-shirt. Can't feel the hard ground or scratchy blades. It's just Robert and his routine breathing, the warmth of his skin.

The tension seeps right out of his shoulders and his eyes slip closed.

"You see that?" Robert says, breath ghosting against the shell of Aaron's ear. The younger man's eyes snap open and he follows the line of Robert's arm, where he's pointing to the north east of the sky. "That constellation is Pegasus. Hindus say it's the resting place of the moon."

Aaron's eyes follow the trace of Robert's finger in mid air. They'd parked up in the middle of nowhere, pitch black fields stretching out under the inky sky after Zak had complained of being hungry for the third time in an hour. Then it'd been all noise and bustling about, bumping shoulders with Vic and Robert as they'd plated up their food.

And then it was quiet - or, quieter, as quiet as it can be in the circus, with people dispersing back to their beds one by one until Aaron was forced to step back into the silence of the trailer he shares with Robert. 

These days, he's more than aware that silence can break a man.

But the stars are bright tonight. Brighter than Aaron's ever seen them, twinkling across the sky in golds and blues and greens. He knows that the latter ones are dying – that they've already died. According to Robert, when he'd told him in the first tentative stage of their friendship, those stars had died millions and millions of years ago. It just takes that long for everyone else to finally catch up.

Aaron knows exactly how that feels.

"What's that one?" Aaron asks quietly, directing his thoughts from the same path they were heading. He gestures to the other side of the sky, directly across from Pegasus. The stars are really bright, shining unapologetically and unashamedly.

“Leo. The brave lion," Robert murmurs, but he doesn't look up at the sky above them. He keeps his gaze on the side of Aaron's face, but it doesn't burn holes like anyone else’s would. It's more warm, like a comfort, like the reassuring weight of a blade in Aaron’s pocket. "Just above that is Leo Minor."

Aaron can't help the laugh that bubbles up his throat, short and sweet and real. Robert doesn't seem to mind either, because his grin grows wider and his hand seeks out Aaron's in the space between them. "What?" The older man asks, even as he's tangling their fingers together and gripping tight. 

"You're such a nerd, you know that?" Aaron says between fits of laughter. His eyes are wet from it - from something happy, for the first time since Gordon dared to show his face. He decides that he likes the feeling, because he didn't even know he missed it until he had it back.

"You're the one asking me questions!" Robert protests, elbow digging into Aaron's ribs. The movement is gentle, though, almost caring. It's such a paradox that it makes Aaron's head spin. "Besides, I know other things."

"Like what?" Aaron asks through a snort, pressing the blunt edge of his nails into the back of Robert's hand. He knows they're being too loud, that they'll probably get a few dirty glares and choice words in the morning, but he can't quite being himself to care - not when he feels so light.

"Like _that_ constellation," Robert says as if it's obvious, pointing to the middle of the sky. He traces his finger in a shape the younger man can't follow when he makes sure Aaron's looking, then raises his eyebrow. "The magician constellation, see? There's the hat with a rabbit popping out the top."

"I'm sure Sammy would love to explain that magicians are more than animals in various pieces of clothing," Aaron shoots back, shifting closer until their shoulders are pressed together and their linked hands are resting on his stomach. "The one below it is the guitar constellation."

Robert stares at it with a serious expression on his face, studying the pattern intensely. "Ah, yes," he says, nodding. His face breaks into a cheeky grin, even as he tries to hide it. "That one's very rare. Some say it can only be seen by two people in the entire world."

"Must be special people," Aaron murmurs. He turns his head to watch Robert, but the older man's eyes are closed and his breathing is evening out into a deep pattern. Aaron's breath catches in his throat just watching his best friend, and he saves the image to his memory, to look back on forever. "Thank you for tonight."

"I'd do anything for you, Aaron," Robert whispers, thumb stroking over each bump of Aaron's knuckle. He doesn't open his eyes but the furrow between his brows indicates that he's deadly serious. "Anything to put a smile on your face."

Aaron's heart beats right out of his chest in a bloody trail as he presses closer, and for the first time in weeks, he can feel a haze take over his body. His limbs feel heavy, eyes slipping shut of their own accord, and his lungs expand and deflate in time with Robert's.

For the first time in weeks, he sleeps.

.

"I've ruined everything, haven't I," Aaron says, staring up at the ceiling. Its a statement, not a question, because he already knows that he has. Liv refusing to talk to him is testament enough. "I've torn my whole family apart."

" _No_ ," Robert says forcefully. Aaron can't see his face because it's pitch black, but he can imagine what it looks like, the line of his mouth. "He did that, not you. You haven't ruined anything."

"My own sister refuses to be in the same room as me," Aaron says, deflating. He turns onto his side, where he can just about make out the glint in Robert's eyes from the bed opposite. "Mum won't stop crying, Cain won't even look at me, and you-" 

"Still love you, no matter what," Robert says gently, reaching across the small gap between their beds. He curls his fingers around Aaron's wrist, thumbing the thin skin over his veins. "And I always will. I don't see you any differently."

Aaron wants to argue, to deny it until he's blue in this face. Because Robert can't see him the same. He doesn't even see himself the same in the mirror. It's all a lie to make Aaron feel better - and the worst part is that it's working.

"I need to tell the police," he says quietly, tangling his fingers with Robert's. The older man responds by tightening his grip reassuringly. "Everybody knows now, and I need to tell the police. Before it gets any worse.” 

“Alright,” Robert says. He doesn’t push Aaron, but doesn’t pull him back. He’s got what he wanted now, so Aaron supposes he’s happy. “I’ll come with you.”

“Thanks,” Aaron smiles gratefully, although he’s not sure if Robert can see it in the low light. Either way, he lets the gratitude roll off of him like waves, and hopes it reaches Robert. “You’ve been great, you know.”

“Anyone would do it,” Robert says, his tone dismissive. Aaron knows, that if it was light, there would be a flush on his cheeks, but he’s not going to call him out on it. “Liv will talk to you, you know. She understands, she’s just… upset.”

Aaron snorts, rolling onto his back again, but he doesn’t let go of Robert’s hand. “Aren’t we all?” He counters, then sighs, closing his eyes. “Suppose we’d better get some sleep; long day tomorrow. Goodnight.”

He hears Robert whisper, _I love you_ , and he’s pretty sure he says it back – but he also could be dreaming. Either way, he knows that Robert knows.

For the first time in ages, he sleeps peacefully, with the feeling of Robert’s hand in his. 

.

Waiting is always the worst part.

That’s what Aaron’s mum says, anyway. She catches him checking his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes, and tuts a little bit, but she understands. She’s been the same, clucking around him like a mother hen and asking if he’s had any calls.

Robert does what he always does – fusses, but quietly. It would be silent, if it wasn’t for the way he asks Aaron if he’s okay ten times a day.

Liv is just about talking to him. She’d apologised, after he went to the police and she realised he was serious about it. Aaron knows that Robert had had a word with her, but he’ll take anything at this point.

The call comes when he’s both expecting it and not expecting it. He’s spent days waiting for the phone to ring while being resigned to the fact it hasn’t, so when it does – he jumps. Heart racing and mouth dry.

“Aaron?” DS Wise says, voice coming through the line all crackly. He sounds serious, like he’s about to say something bad, and Aaron closes his eyes. “We arrested your dad – and charged him.” 

“You what?” Aaron breathes, just about daring to believe it’s real. His back sags against the tree behind him with relief, because he’d ran to the nearest place he could be alone when he saw the number flashing up on his phone. “You charged him?” 

“Yes, Aaron,” Wise says. There’s a smile evident in his voice, and he sounds relieved too, but then it drops. The change in air is enough to tell Aaron what it is. “But we had to give him bail.”

Aaron’s eyes feel wet, suddenly. Wet eyes and tight lungs, like he’s been trapped in a room that he can’t get out of. “Why?” He whispers, horrified.

Because Gordon can do what he wants now, can’t he? He’s already proved that he’s not going to give up – not that easily. 

“Because we didn’t have enough evidence to remand him,” DS Wise says gently. He does sound apologetic, so maybe that’s something. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I’ll call you when we know a date for the trial.”

The phone line goes dead, and Aaron just about manages to fumble enough to put his phone in his pocket. He’s suffocating on the knowledge that Gordon is walking about with no surveillance, and it makes him _sick_.

He’s snapped out of it by Gordon, stepping out from behind the trees with a smirk. He’s honestly careless right now, like he’s not breaking his bail conditions and this couldn’t land him in prison.

“I see you’ve heard then,” he says, stopping directly in Aaron’s line of sight. His hands are tucked into his pockets, so casual, like this is a normal interaction. “I’m a free man.”

“For now,” Aaron manages to snap, even though it sounds weak. He counts to ten in his head, and then back down to one, trying to regulate his breathing. “Don’t fancy your chances for the trial, though.”

“There’s not going to _be_ a trial,” Gordon snaps, face suddenly flashing into something furious – and terrifying. That’s the Gordon Aaron remembers from his childhood. “Because you’re going to drop the charges. If you know what’s good for you, that is.” 

It almost works. As much as Aaron hates to admit it, he considers it, just for half a minute. Thinks about how easy it would be to walk away, how much simpler it would be to tell everyone he’s too weak to go through with it.

But then he thinks of Robert’s face, and Chas’ face, and Cain and Lisa and Zak and Vic, and _everyone_ who cares about him.

This is for them.

“No,” Aaron says, firmly. He steps up to Gordon, finger pointing at the older man, and face hard. “No, I’m going to get up on that stand, and I’m going to tell everyone what kind of sick fuck you are. And then, when they’re taking you down to the cell – well, I’ll be laughing.”

He has nothing more to say, so he doesn’t stick around. He pushes past Gordon, shoulder shoving into him, and walks back to the camp with his head held high.

Back to his family, to the place where he belongs. Where everyone has seen the worst parts of him and the best, and they still want him around anywhere.

To the place where he is finally loved.

.

A knock on the trailer door startles Aaron out of his daydreams. They weren’t anything bad – he was thinking about happier times, when they’ve gotten through this and moved on, and his family can look at him without thinking about what that man did to him.

He doesn’t know what to expect when he opens the door – half of him is expecting Gordon, and the other half is expecting Robert coming to check up on him for the fifth time this hour – but it’s definitely, absolutely, not Chrissie White.

As in, Robert’s girlfriend.

“Oh,” he says in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up. He shifts from one foot to the other, feeling a little awkward considering they’ve never spoken past the initial introductions and passing conversations. “Robert’s busy at the minute, but you’re welcome to come in and wait?” 

“No, thank you, Aaron,” she says. Her voice is soft, lilting at the end. It’s no wonder that Robert wanted her. “I’m actually here to see you.” 

“Me?” Aaron asks, wrinkling his nose. He steps aside all the same, letting her in, where she sits on the sofa and crosses her legs delicately. She’s so feminine and beautiful, the polar opposite of Aaron.

It brings home some harsh realities.

“Me and Robert broke up,” she says simply, patting the space next to her – as if this is her house. She looks out of place but not, at the same time. Like she could own any room she walked into. “He said he needed to be there for you right now. He didn’t tell me why.” 

It startles all the breath out of Aaron’s lungs. He didn’t know this, because Robert had very obviously failed to mention it, and he tells her as such. She laughs, very daintily, and says _of course_ like she knows something he doesn’t. 

“He’s very fond of you, Aaron,” Chrissie says. She smiles at him, more than polite but less than friendly, but it’s definitely genuinely. “More than that, really. And I hope you know how lucky you are to have him.”

“I know,” Aaron says, rubbing the top of his arm a little self consciously. He’s more than aware – what other friend would end their relationship just so he could be there for his best friend? “I really do. I appreciate him.”

“I’m glad. That was all I came to say,” Chrissie says. Her smile is a little wider now, and she stands, shaking his hand before heading to door. She pauses just before she steps out, turning back to Aaron. “I wish the two of you the best of luck; you deserve it.” 

And with that, she’s gone, only the scent of her sweet perfume the only sign she was here in the first place. He thinks he knows what she was getting at – something a little more than friendship – but then he realises how ridiculous the idea is.

But the conversation was eye opening, to say the very least.

.

It takes Aaron another few days until he feels physically strong enough to practice again.

He was disappointed, at first, because that’s what he does when he needs a mental break from life. It clears his head, until all he’s thinking about is what moves come next.

The big top is empty when he ducks through the doors. A little chilly and maybe too quiet, but it’s perfect for him. Being alone is so rare at the minute that he’s started to treasure moments like this.

It doesn’t take him long to warm up and dust chalk over his hands. He presses play on the playlist he created especially for these practice sessions, and swings up onto the lowest bar with ease.

Honestly, this is the best he’s felt for… weeks. Five weeks, four days, and two hours, really – since he told Robert everything. It’s nice, knowing everyone cares, but it gets old fast.

He ends up lost in himself, swinging and jumping until there’s no room left in his head for anything else. No Gordon, no Liv, no _whatdoesthismeanformeandRobertwhywouldheeverwantmenow_ , no Chas. 

It’s bliss.

He’s so lost in it that he doesn’t hear the soft footsteps padding across the seated area, or the quiet breaths that fill the tent. He doesn’t sense the shift in the air, or the electricity, like the calm before a storm.

He doesn’t notice it until there’s hands grabbing his ankles, and his body freezes – fight or flight, malfunctioned. He hits the floor with a thud, body twisting on the air, but he still lands on his arm. He groans in pain, but daren’t look up. Who knows what he’ll find?

“Shit!” Robert’s panicked voice says, face appearing over him not even a second later. He looks panicked, eyes wild and hands hovering as he hooks an arm around the younger man’s back and helps him to sit up. “I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?” 

“My wrist,” Aaron hisses through his teeth, cradling his arm to his chest. It’s throbbing, the skin turning an angry kind of red. God, it’d just be his luck that he’s broken. “I landed on it.” 

“God, let me take a look,” Robert says, crouching next to Aaron and taking his arm gingerly. He looks beyond apologetic and into ashamed, furious with himself, but he doesn’t say a word as he inspects the younger man’s arm intently, pushing and prodding. “I think it’s just a sprain.” 

“Thanks,” Aaron says, crossing his legs. He watches Robert do the same, then watches him open his mouth to apologise again. “You don’t need to say sorry – it was just an accident.” 

Robert is quiet for a long moment, eyes vacant like he’s replaying what just happened in his head. Aaron knows he’s going to ask what caused it, because it’s never happened between them before. The trust that runs between them is undoubtedly strong.

“Aaron…” He says quietly, a lead up to the question, but Aaron silences him with a look. He’s going to explain, he will, but he just needs time to get it into words.

“I freaked out,” he says tearfully, now he’s worked it all out in his head. He lifts his head and meets Robert’s gaze head on, and notices that the older man is looking – scared, maybe. Not of Aaron, but _for_ him. “Because I thought you were Gordon. Now that he’s- he’s been bailed, he can show up at any time, can’t he? And he’s already proved that he’s slippery enough.” 

“Jesus, I didn’t think,” Robert says, blowing out a long, low breath. He swings his legs over the edge of the stage and Aaron does the same, so they’re sitting side to side. “I’m so sorry, Aaron. It won’t happen again.” 

“I know,” Aaron chokes out on a sob. It’s easy to forget; because none of them are used to it. Aaron, yeah, but to everyone else, this is new. Terrifying. It still hurts that Gordon has brought all of this up, but it’s normal now, he supposes. “I just want to forget. Can you make me forget? Please.” 

The silence stretches on for a minute, and then two. Robert is sitting with his head bowed, staring at his feet, but he reaches out and tangles his fingers with Aaron’s.

“Do you trust me?” He asks eventually. His voice is quiet and careful, like trying not to shatter glass that’s already broken. 

“Of course I do,” Aaron shoots back. He can’t help but feel a little affronted, because Robert should _know_ this by now. They’ve worked together for years, and have been friends even longer. 

There’s no one in the world he trusts more than Robert.

But Robert is a little unpredictable sometimes. Sometimes, he doesn’t think before he speaks, and sometimes, he likes to keep Aaron on his toes. He keeps everyone second guessing – even himself.

He turns his head until he’s facing Aaron, looking at the younger man from beneath his eyelashes. It’s a coy expression, maybe even a little shy, and he breathes quietly. Carefully and calculated, like he’s thinking of every next step.

And then, he raises his hand to Aaron’s face, palm cupping his cheek. They’ve touched like this before, of course they have, but it didn’t feel like this did. This is – intimate. Breathtaking. 

He leans in slowly, painfully slowly, but it’s only so Aaron can pull away if he needs to. But when the younger man doesn’t his eyes slip shut, and he finally closes the gap between them.

The kiss is nothing like Aaron expects. He’s been thinking about this for years, since the very first time he realised what those uncomfortably tight feelings for Robert were. Dreaming and daydreaming, until it all blurred into one.

This isn’t that.

This is real; Robert’s lips are dry but soft, bottom lip slightly dampened from where he’d been biting at it moments before. He kisses sweetly, tiny little pecks onto Aaron’s mouth that have the younger man chasing him as he pulls away.

It’s everything he dreamed of – and _more_.

Robert pulls away slowly, with half-lidded eyes and a flush high on his cheekbones. He looks at Aaron but doesn’t quite meet his eye, instead staring at a spot just over his shoulder.

“Was that too much?” He asks. It’s barely a breath, and his cheeks grow an even deeper shade as he shifts further away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“Robert,” Aaron whispers. He loops his fingers around the older man’s wrist and pulls him back in, even closer than before. Makes him meet his gaze, and then holds it, even though he’s crumbling on the inside. “It was fine; it was more than that. It was…”

He trails off because he can’t quite find anything to say. Nothing seems to fit that moment – all the words seem too inconsequential, too small, because it was perfect.

It was all of Aaron’s dreams finally coming true, in a grand total of three overwhelming seconds.

.

The trial lasts two weeks exactly. It’s pretty average, really, but Aaron never expected to even _have_ a trial, let alone it lasting longer than a few days.

Chas speaks. She gets angry and she cries, but she tells the truth, and she shoots down every single lie that the defence throws at her. She’s incredible, really, but Aaron doesn’t know how to tell her that.

Liv speaks, too. She looks Aaron in the eye when she answers the questions about what kind of big brother he’s been. For a while, he’d expected her to sabotage the case, but before they’d been called into court, she’d cried, and told him that she loved him.

These two moments are some of the proudest of his life. Seeing his mum up there, standing strong and tall and not crumbling despite everything. His little sister, telling a room full of strangers that Aaron makes her feel special, for the first time in her life.

But nothing compares to how he feels when Robert takes the stand.

He’s only up there because he’s the one that Aaron told first, but he doesn’t complain about it. He smiles reassuringly, tells Aaron that he wants to do anything that’ll help – and then kisses him once, just for good measure.

He tells the court about Aaron; about his kind heart and warm smiles and how everybody should want to be like him. It brings tears to Aaron’s eyes, but happy tears – the only ones of the entire trial.

Gordon, obviously, plays dirty. He lies and cheats and pretends that he’s still sick, that the cancer is killing him and he’s no longer mobile. Aaron wants to wrap that walking stick right around his neck. He wishes the cancer _was_ killing him.

And then it ends, and Aaron is thankful, because two weeks of reliving his deepest, darkest moments was difficult, to say the very least. It was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and he was close to giving up, but.

But he had Robert, sitting by his side every day, holding his hand and helping him through. It’s Robert that makes him strong and capable, because he knows that he couldn’t do it alone.

Gordon is found guilty, in the end. It makes Aaron feel sick, and delirious with joy all at once. It’s a complicated feeling, and Robert doesn’t hold it against him when he tries to explain it, because there’s two things:

Aaron Dingle has sent his father to prison. He may be a rapist, may have done the worst possible thing, but… he’s still Aaron’s dad. He brought him into this world.

Aaron Dingle has finally got justice. He can live his life freely, without looking over his shoulder and wondering when Gordon is going to pop up next.

He just wishes it didn’t feel so bittersweet.

The Dingle throw a party for him, when they get back to the campsite. The circus has been cancelled for the last few weeks – pre-trial preparations and then the trial itself – so they’ve founded a secluded little field, where no one can see them from the road.

They get a fire going and Vic makes fairy cakes, tins of beer being passed around with smiles and grins in Aaron’s direction. They’re all so happy for him, and keep telling him so, but it becomes a little overwhelming, after a while.

He’s just – so tired. Bone achingly tired.

He manages to escape for all of ten minutes before being found, leaning against the back of his caravan watching the sunset with a beer in his hand.

But it’s only Robert, and he doesn’t mind that, because he seems to understand that it doesn’t disappear just like that.

“People are looking for you,” he says quietly, hands in his pockets as he smiles at Aaron. It’s a reserved kind of smile, tinged with a little sadness. “Why are you hiding?”

“Needed a break,” Aaron answers honestly, returning the smile Robert gives him. It’s weaker, yes, but it’s real, because despite it all, he feels relieved. “I’m exhausted.”

“I can imagine,” Robert says with a knowing nod, taking several large steps until he’s standing next to Aaron. He slings an arm across the younger man’s shoulders supportively. “I’m so proud of you, you know.” 

“Give over,” Aaron says, nudging Robert’s side with his shoulder. He can feel himself blushing furiously red, because he’s heard so much about the awful things about him recently that the praise doesn’t seem to touch home properly.

“No, I mean it, Aaron – you’re the strongest person I know,” Robert says, curling his fingers around Aaron’s bicep and squeezing gently. The younger man lets himself be drawn into it, resting his head against Robert’s shoulder. “You deserve to be really, really happy.”

The words make tears start pricking at Aaron’s eyes, until they’re blurring his vision and thickening his throat. He’s right, is Robert, and Aaron knows that. He feels it deep in his gut. This is his time, right here and right now.

And he’s going to get that happiness, no matter what.

.

Alright, so, they’re not in a relationship, but they may as well be.

They were close enough before, anyway, even without all the added extras – like the kissing. They held hands, cuddled, sometimes, and told each other just about everything. So it was like a relationship; with all the intimacy and none of the sex.

Of course, certain, more innocent elements of the latter were introduced the first time Robert kissed him. They’d never gone any further than that, but they didn’t need to. Aaron was content, he didn’t push for anything more.

Things were _good_. Things were really good, which is why he doesn’t understand why Robert has backed entirely, completely, wholly away.

He hasn’t even hugged him since the trial was over, let alone kissed. It’s overwhelmingly lonely, Aaron had noticed, because he needed that comfort. He got it, and now he’s being deprived. 

It makes absolutely zero sense.

When he bumps into Victoria, hurrying about the campsite, he spies his opportunity and grabs her by the elbows, stilling her. She doesn’t look impressed, but this is important.

“Vic,” Aaron says, meeting her gaze so she knows he’s sincere. He’s never been more serious about anything in his life. “Do you- Do you know what’s wrong with Robert?”

“Aside from his general personality problems?” She asks, then shakes her head. It’s that weird sibling banter that’s somewhere between insults and teasing. Aaron didn’t understand it for so long, but now he’s got Liv. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“You might not know this, but,” he says, before pausing and taking a deep breath. He’s never told anyone about his unrequited feelings for Robert, let alone this. “We were… I don’t know. Seeing each other, for a bit.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, rolling her eyes like it’s completely obvious. He knows that Robert wouldn’t have told her, and they tried to be subtle. “I have a sixth sense about this sort of stuff. What about it, anyway?” 

“He just – hasn’t been the same recently,” Aaron says, a little hesitantly. Robert’s baby sister is probably the worst person to be spilling this to, but he doesn’t know who else to ask. “Has he said anything to you? About why?”

“Oh my god, _men_ ,” Vic mutters, throwing her hands up in the air exasperatedly. She places her fists on her hips and stares him down, somewhere between furious and disbelieving. “You’ve both been so madly in love with each other for so long. Everyone else can see it but you! You need to _talk to him_ and sort it out – but you know what, I’ll do it, because I’m clearly better at this stuff. I’m going to go find Robert.”

Her monologuing has left him in shock. Or maybe it was less monologuing, and more an outburst, but either way she stomps off at the end of it, leaving Aaron stood there staring after her.

That was… odd.

He doesn’t let himself think about what she said, but it’s set blood rushing in his ears anyway. Robert… Loving him. For all this time. For years.

It makes him feel nauseous with anticipation.

That’s it, then. He needs to find Robert and tell him exactly how he feels.

He doesn’t find him, at first. He knocks on the trailer door because he’s certain he can hear Robert pottering about in there, but it quietens down as he approaches, and there’s no answer at the door.

He’s at a loss, now. He’s asked Vic and Andy and Chas and whoever else he came across during his wandering, and none of them seem to know where Robert is. Well, Vic had a weird smile on her face, but she hadn’t said anything. 

For some reason, he ends up walking for an hour. Just strolling through the woods aimlessly, breathing in the fresh air and letting the low buzz from all the wild animals and bugs wash over his body.

It has the best kind of calming affect.

His phone pings at that moment, ringing out through the silence. It’s a text, it’s _Robert_ ; **where are you, we need to talk x** , and Aaron turns back to go the way he came. 

He was heading back that way anyway, because it’s getting dark and he’s hungry. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself, just so it doesn’t seem so – pathetic. That he’s going running when Robert calls.

“Hey,” Robert says breathlessly, knocking into Aaron right at the edge of the words. His face is bright red and sweaty, like he’s been running to kind Aaron. “You’ve been ages; I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I was on my way back,” Aaron says, scratching the back of his neck. He doesn’t know why, but something in the air between them feels stretched. Nervous and anxious. “What’s up?”

“Come on, we’ll go back to the trailer,” Robert says. He’s completely avoiding answering the question, but Aaron gets swept up in the way the younger man’s hand is placed on his lower back.

Robert leads them the trailer, pausing in front of the door and turning to Aaron with a grin. He seems more than nervous now, the energy of it making him vibrate, but he throws the door open and gestures for Aaron to go in first.

He doesn’t know what he expects when he steps through the door, but it’s not this.

The trailer is dressed up; there’s fairy lights hanging around the curtain poles and around cupboard doors, giving the room a soft twinkly glow. And the table is all set – plates and glasses with cutlery placed neatly next to them, with a simmering pot of something in the middle.

It looks like a _date_.

“What’s this?” Aaron whispers. He doesn’t think he can talk too loudly, not past the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes. He takes another step into the room and notices candles. Jesus, Robert has gone all out.

“Something Vic said earlier made me think,” Robert says, sounding oddly emotional. He steps up behind Aaron and wraps his fingers around the younger man’s biceps, dipping his head so his nose is brushing curls and he’s speaking directly into his ear. “I’m done with trying to hide how i feel about you, Aaron. I just – I just _want you_.”

“What do you mean?” Aaron asks. He understands but he doesn’t, because he’s terrified that he’s got this wrong. That Robert doesn’t want him like _that_. That he’s imagining it. “Tell me.”

Robert blows out a long breath before taking Aaron’s hand and leading them to the sofa. He sits, tucking one leg underneath him and facing Aaron, a patient look on his face.

“Just let me get it all out, yeah? Just listen,” Robert says. He hasn’t let go of Aaron’s hand yet, and he stares down at their tangled fingers. “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Just – always. But it’s never been the right time, has it? But now… now, I don’t want to wait anymore. I want his, I want us.”

“Then why did you just – stop talking to me, then? After the trial?” Aaron snaps, anxiously. He shifts because he’s uncomfortable; waiting for an explanation is awful. “We were good.”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted me, or it was just- what you’d been through,” Robert says, reaching forward and taking Aaron’s other hand. He laughs, a little self deprecating. “I know, it’s stupid. But you’ve always been too good for me, Aaron.”

“No,” Aaron says firmly, shaking his head. He wants to reach out and pull Robert into his arms, to cry and laugh and kiss him. “I’ve _always_ wanted you. Gordon… He had nothing to do with that.”

“How was I supposed to know? You were grieving,” Robert points out. Aaron’s never thought about it like that before, but it’s true. “And before that, there was Jackson. That’s why I didn’t like him – not that I knew it at the time.”

“And, what? You spent that entire relationship jealous?” Aaron asks. It sounds a little ridiculous, but also plausible. Like, he gets it, because Robert was never Jackson’s biggest fan, but he was supportive nevertheless.

Maybe he was just that selfless.

“I was jealous, yeah,” Robert says, face a straight line. He looks deadly serious now, no sad smiles or empty laughter. “I still am, because he was your first love. Imagine that – being jealous of a dead man. It’s disgusting.”

“He’s not, though,” Aaron says, feeling tears fall down his cheeks. It’s the first time he’s admitted it to himself, let alone anyone else. “Because I loved you way before he came along.”

Robert laughs, wiping his cheeks. He looks delighted, but broken open and raw. “I love you so much, Aaron Dingle,” he says, hand coming up to cup Aaron’s jaw. His thumb strokes over the rough bristles of his beard. “Tell me you feel the same.

"Of course I do," Aaron whispers. He covers Robert's hand with his own, leaning forward and biting his lip. It's a hint and a want, but the older man waits. "I love you, too."

The waiting is over. 

Robert leans forward, so slowly it's almost painful, and kisses Aaron. It's different to all the other times, because it feels like it _means_ something now, and Aaron revels in the sweet feeling that spreads from his toes, right to the tips of his fingers.

He kisses Robert a little deeper, tasting the small gasp that he lets out. His mouth is warm, peppermint and coffee and something underneath it all that's so distinctly Robert. 

He doesn't want to forget this feeling.

It's like all of the want Aaron's been ignoring for years rushes to the forefront, overwhelmingly strong. He can't ignore it, not like he used to. Because he's allowed to feel it now, isn't he? He doesn't have to pretend it isn't there.

He breaks away from the kiss and stands, holding his hand out for Robert to take. Sure, a single bed probably isn't going to be the most comfortable, but that doesn't matter.

He wants this, and he's going to get it.

"Are you sure?" Robert asks, voice gentle. He looks concerned, but when Aaron meets his eyes, there's a sparkle there. The very definition of desire. "There's no rush, we don't-"

"I'm done waiting," Aaron says firmly, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Robert takes his hand. He takes slow, calculated steps towards the bed, then sits on the edge, smiling at the older man. "He didn't take this from me."

Robert laughs, just a small exhale of breath, but then something else takes over his face. He bites his lip and his eyes darken as he gestures for Aaron to shift further back, then crawls on the bed, knees bracketing the younger man's hips.

It takes Aaron's breath away, the sight of Robert above him. It's better than he ever imagined, but he doesn't have time to think about it again, not when Robert dips his head and captures Aaron's mouth with his own.

It all feels like a blur from there, but he knows he'll remember all of it: the way Robert's hands tighten around his hips and pull him down the bed. The way he slides his hands under his t-shirt, stripping it over his head and then kissing down his chest.

He ends up spread out and bare, with Robert looming over him. But he takes his time and uses gentle, careful touches, until Aaron is sobbing and swearing, begging him to get on with it.

Robert pushes in slowly, teasingly, until he has bottomed out and Aaron's mouth is dropped open on a groan. He doesn't think he ever got this far in his daydreams, but the reality is miles better, anyway.

"I love you," Robert says, his voice horse. He sets a frantic pace as Aaron's hands come up to cup his shoulders, fingernails digging in and leaving red marks on the pale skin. "I love you so much, Aaron. It scares me."

Aaron comes with a cry, Robert's name on the tip of his tongue and the feel of his warmth everywhere else.

.

When Aaron wakes up, it's to Robert plastered to his back, an arm over his waist and face pressed against his shoulder. He's snoring lightly, right in Aaron's ear, but he can't quite bring himself to be annoyed.

He covers Robert's hand with his own and tangles their fingers, the movement waking the older man up. He comes to slowly, stretching his legs and letting out little groaning noises.

"Alright?" Robert says hoarsely, tightening his fingers on Aaron's stomach in greeting. He drops a soft kiss to the warm spot of skin just below Aaron's ear. "Sleep well?"

"Great," Aaron says, more of a hushed admission than anything. The feel of Robert behind him all night made him feel safe - loved. He doesn't want to get up and ruin the moment, but Robert has other ideas, judging by the way he's inching Aaron out of bed.

He follows Aaron's when he stands, stopping far too close in front of him to be purely friendly, and stretches his arms over his head, yawning. He looks so good like this, hair sleep mussed and face soft. 

Sure, Aaron's seen it plenty of times, but not like this. Never like this.

He grabs Aaron by the waist and pulls him in tight, until they're chest to chest and the younger man is having to look up to Robert's face. He's smiling, the tiniest, most secretive thing, and Aaron takes it, keeps it to remember forever.

"Love you," Robert says, eyes lighting up. He's saying it just because he can - because he's allowed to, now. He dips his head, ever so slightly, and then kisses Aaron awake.

He dances away before Aaron has even had the chance to open his eyes, to his shelves and pulling out his clothes. Probably a good idea, considering neither of them had gotten dressed again last night, and Aaron's thinking about moving too when Robert throws a pair of trackies and a t-shirt at his face.

"We'd better go face the music," he says with a smirk, eyes trailing the length of Aaron's body suggestively. There's no way they kept last night a secret from anyone else. "Vic will want to know what happened, at the very least."

"Think it's pretty obvious considering no one stormed out," Aaron snorts, pulling his t-shirt over his head. When he's fully dressed, he sits on the edge of the bed, watching Robert faff about with his hair. "Do we really have to go?"

He doesn't want to leave this little bubble of happiness they've created for themselves. God knows how they interact with the rest of the world - they haven't gotten that far yet. Alone is more than enough for Aaron, but life doesn't wait.

Robert runs a tangles a hand through Aaron’s hair when he passes, tilting his head back to steal a kiss. And then he lets go, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, to shrug on his hoodie and nod towards the door.

“Better go,” he says, regarding Aaron carefully for a minute. Then, he holds out his hand with a shy look on his face.

But he needn’t worry, because Aaron takes it, pulling himself up and not letting go. He wouldn’t dream of anything else, and Robert should know that.

It feels a little weird, hustling out the door hand in hand with Robert, but a normal kind of weird. The kind that Aaron wouldn’t mind getting used to.

They walk to the big top like that too, bumping shoulders occasionally and sharing secretive smiles. There’s no way the vibe won’t be picked up on, but Aaron doesn’t mind. It’s probably easier than using words, anyway.

Ducking into the big top, Aaron notices that all eyes are immediately on them. It’s later than they realised, people are already setting up for the afternoon shows and they’ve all gathered in the tent.

It’s – a little unsettling, really. Have ten pairs of eyes on your face, and then your hands, and then watching smiles spread on faces. 

Liv barrels up to them first, throwing her arms around Aaron’s waist in a crushing hug. “I’m sorry – love ya,” she says, words muffled against Aaron’s hoodie. When she pulls back, she’s grinning, cheeky and real, and Aaron knows she has finally forgiven him for turning her life upside town. “Rob, I learnt that Fleetwood Mac song you wanted me to.”

She drags the older man away with a firm grip to his arm. Robert doesn’t mind – he loves Liv like she’s his own – but he turns his head to look at Aaron over his shoulder, pulling a playful face. 

Paddy takes the opportunity to sidle up next to him, looking at his face carefully. He must approve of whatever he sees because he hums quietly, nodding to himself.

“You look better… Happy,” Paddy says decisively. Robert is glancing over their way now, with most of his attention still on Liv, but Paddy hasn’t noticed that Aaron isn’t listening. “Like, you’ve got – got a glow about you.”

Robert bursts out at Paddy’s comment, winking at Aaron from across the room. They both know what that glow is, but Paddy seems clueless, looking between the two of them bewilderedly. 

“I am happy,” Aaron says, turning away from Robert so he doesn’t get distracted again. He smiles, and claps his hand on Paddy’s shoulder. “Thank you. For being there, throughout all of this. I really appreciate it.”

“Any time, Aaron,” Paddy says, pulling Aaron into a hug. He pulls away quickly, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat, before offering the younger man a weak smile. “I’d better start, uh, helping.”

He disappears back the way he came, and Aaron stands still for a second. Paddy’s words have made him think, about how far he’s come recently, and how much he’s gained. He is so much happier than he ever thought he deserved to be; ever thought he _would_ be.

Robert leaves Liv’s side, taking quick strides over to Aaron until he reaches the younger man’s side. It looks like it pains him to be apart from him, but Aaron gets it. He feels it, too.

“Everything okay?” Robert asks warmly, sliding an arm around Aaron’s waist. He looks a little concerned, but mostly – _in love_. It makes Aaron’s heart tighten in his chest.

“Everything’s perfect,” Aaron whispers, tilting his head up towards Robert. He’s angling for a kiss, and Robert understands, because he tangles his fingers in Aaron’s curls, and sweeps forward for a tingling kiss.

And everything slots right back into place, completing the puzzle that makes up Aaron’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [aarobron](http://aarobron.tumblr.com/) xo


End file.
